Wunderkammen

I did a candy apple study while Moody was in surgery a couple weeks ago.
Click the pic to see it in larger scale.
9"x12", done with Unison and Terry Ludwig pastels.
Reference photo via michael king, a pastelist's journal

Posted by Kisha at 07:21 PM ∗ Comments (2)

Text:

-- cigarette smoke and gunpowder, asphalt, tar, and thick ozone like merengue.
I get worried when I'm not near a freeway, interstate, the sounds of traffic...
and I'm a woman that can't even drive.

-- cinderblock divides covered in spraypaint.
Pop. Pop. POP. Paperthin walls equals knowing everybody's business.
That might be why I love my privacy and on the odd occasion, crave a houseparty.

I've had my best sleep in the passenger seat of a car nowhere near
away from
fleeing from
between
home(s).

Posted by Kisha at 06:20 PM ∗ Comments (0)

I have a running list in my head of what I will not do today. I will not listen to this panic; the power of it making my heart pound beats so rhythmic I could dance Damballah. I will not think of the dreams where people close to me are cut open and splayed, organs removed and bionic parts put in their place so that they are alien to me, distant, removed, gone.

I will not pay attention to any of those voices that know exactly why the sky clouds over and whispers so loud that the ocean rings in my ear. Not today, Yemaya. Not tomorrow either.

Here’s why I won’t:

The last time I pulled myself together and started to fight, I had to reach so deeply inside of myself to find hope and reason that it would be foolish to imagine I’ll have access again. Every time I fall, it’s harder to get up. So I’m getting dressed. I’m going to therapy. I’m taking my meds and I’m leaving this computer alone.

I can’t be in control when I’m scared past reason.

Posted by Kisha at 03:31 PM ∗ Comments (0)