When he told me that he wanted to give me a place to heal, I hadn't realized that he had made himself my home. 

I am homeless now. 

without him

I think breaking can be a rather beautiful thing, don't you? When a tree grows brittle and falls, it crackles as it's heart tears. Like it is laughing at all the other trees, making its leaves chuckle and rustle with it. An inside joke about the strength we believe we have when we are whole. I think, the tree understands that breaking is its own strength, is its own kind of completeness, serves its own kind of purpose no more or less than others. Maybe that's what I am. The tree in the…

"Sand"

I found this art therapy exercise on youtube via a channel called "IABET- Consciousness Through Art." In combination with my personal therapist I started creating a series of similar art using this or similar methods. As part of the art therapy, and especially for this one in particular, after the artwork is finish you spend time processing…

This is a reoccurring dream I have had since I was 14 years old... 

I live in a shack that is not a shack because it is a home. I am doing the dishes and contemplating the fact that I am aware that I am dreaming and how beautiful the knots and whorls in the wooden wall panels are. There is anticipation, expectation for the coming evening. A guest is coming for dinner. Someone who has long been familiar to…

I've been doing a lot of work on my emotions and learning to accept and integrate each of them as part of my whole being. Often during art therapy part of acknowledging, understanding and accepting an emotion involves a, often cryptic, conversation with it. As such the process has a tendency to personify what you feel. It humanizes the parts of you that you have been taught to dehumanize. This is a poem about Fear as someone I walk this path with and love very…

The spirit, for lack of a better word for the energetic manifestation of my existence and selfhood, houses parts of my identity. So when I say that I identify as submissive please understand that I am saying that it is not a choice. It is who I am, not what I am. More than that I am also saying that language is rather limiting and these are the closest words I can find to communicate my self-knowledge with you. The ways in which I express who I am tend to fall…

Sometimes I feel so much that all I want to do is rip these sensations and feelings out of me. To distance myself and banish them from ever occupying the same space as my being ever again. It makes me want to run. Not away. Run. Like life is a cage and the landscape of this world is merely the length the bars stretch out before me. I want to run to forget these limitations and push the reminder of this too small skin stretched tightly around bone and flesh away from myself. Even…

I found this art therapy exercise on YouTube via a channel called "IABET- Consciousness Through Art." In combination with my personal therapist I started creating a series of similar art using this or similar methods. 



You can locate the video here: …

I found this art therapy exercise on YouTube via a channel called "IABET- Consciousness Through Art." In combination with my personal therapist I started creating a series of similar art using this or similar methods. 



You can locate the video here: …

When the world holds me captive

Within its snarling teeth 

My humanity creeps up,

Grasps my trembling feet

Who am I? I ask the silence

Who are you? They echo violence…

If i told You that You were made of stars, would You believe me?

Would You trace the dust that outlines Your soul

Which leaves a fluorescent explosion of color trailing in Your wake?

Would You believe me if i told You how You became a constellation of my Dreams?

Would You count each wish i made?

Would You run Your mind across my Hopes and Fears

That have created Your lips, Your eyes, Your hands, Your…

Water makes me think of You
So I kiss the Rain and let it caress my face
Fingertip rivulets against my skin
Soaking, body chilled,
Exhaling excitement's foggy thrill
I kneel in the muddy grass
Take these cupped hands and drink reverently,
Deeply --
Slide my tongue over my dewy lips,
And gasp --
It's the only way I can touch You

Forge me, let the hammer strike its blows 

Heat the core of me within the molten coals 

Until my soul, reddened, glows

Shape me, lay me down upon the stone 

Beat the rhythm of your heart 

Against my flesh and bone