Love doesn’t have a home in me. I’m loveless, and so lost.

Cruise control

I ask that I be patient with the things in me that are still dawning. That are silhouettes and not yet solid figures. I ask that I be gentle with the parts of me that tiptoes around my self-criticism, that hides from my frustration against myself. I’ve been reluctant to ask for 2 things ; patience and what my purpose here is. I realized today that the reason for this is because I really didn’t want life and i was just going to do the absolute minimum to stay afloat. I didn’t care about my purpose, much less being so willing to know what unfolds within me that I ask for patience to sit through the discomfort. I put myself on mute very early on. Maybe when I was 5. I decided then that it was easier if I was just here in the capacity of an observer and not a participant. I wasn’t willing to make my life a battlefield. Nothing was ever that deep, especially my life.

Map our bodies

I’m not a performance. I’m an experience, an expression. I’m contained by the moment, not for consumption. Close your eyes and your mind and feel my meaning. Hear my breathing in your heart and you’ll know. You’ll remember what was carved into your soul, eons ago. Our shared love.

Finding a home in my planet

The truth in me… is so cold and sterile. I don’t know… how to relate to it. I’m afraid… I’d be frozen if I attempt to reconnect what trauma decimated. I thought avoidance would… soften the edges of the terrifying memories. But they only festered and grew taunting shadows. Shadow puppetry, Plato’s concentration camp. Release my focus, have it all just let me dissociate. Let me dream until death overtakes..


CPTSD (complex ptsd) corrodes the very core that creates meaning and the desire to connect. It burns down any attempts at relating because everything has been usurped by a volcano eruption that took over all mental concepts that helped me orient myself in the world and find stability. My soul is Pompeii and I’m petrified. I’m at ground zero and I can’t find any reason to start from square one.

Alarm clock

Underneath the surface of my feelings, my trapped nightmares are reflected back to me.

Know what’s worth suffering for

My mind is a pendulum, swinging to survive, swayed by the divine, helplessly tossed between polarities. At once, seeking to rest in the middle and the thrilling sensation of displacement.

No more posts.