Reading the Water: Portait of a Young Artist Grown Old

The book to come probably end of this year 2015 has been writing itself through me since’ve easily  been recovering and redrafting after Chimera. All scattered. I’ve dreamed of having the time and the space to do these art forms properly and the way I see fit which is all I’ve ever asked of my aesthetic heroes- a basic mindset, not too Braggart but definitely strong of purpose and limber of ego to waste my precious time left learning anything new this experiential dog ain’t learning new tricks unless they make money or Lead to the making of money a changed repurposed focus in the springtime of my Loving The installation. Piece – multimedia remembrance quilts

The donations favorite causes for lost loved ones

The book reading the Water 

Collection reprint mutation of love in the time of cholera 

Meets my Brain spur Chimera  

This book reading the Water covers roughly 1994-2014 span that is all over the place, quite literally, and I am thinking of shaping the collage like poems as visual art offerings and figuring out my multimedia vision as part of my current sports of Clear, unadulterated vision®mission©align™ and Managing my dissociation disorders bodily manifestations of pain and changes i know I want to make and life I see living out my years as not a complete waste of human potential but a contributing factor to other than gorilla mentality might makes right bartleby scrivner existence from here til my own private eternity

Midlife crisis is third book can’t wait to get to that

Hank Moody is my Harry’all$ in Bar character 

Need to write that story while it’s happening

Taking care of business make a commitment to write 

Each day

Gathering at bay

Moving to Montana soon

In plain sight

She hidesIn pinkish faded light

Losing hours

Like a blight

She cannot face

What she cannot



She miscarried 

The burden

For so long

And now

The answer 


Upon her face

With childless chisels 

Causing hate

Lasting indentations 

Of blind faith

I’ve harmed myself

I know that now

But now to begin the

Ending of such reactions actions inertia fear and hideout 


No one wants to Deal 

With That s hit

You made 

Sure of that

And now I feel. Like I just want 

To check myself in to a place that lobotomizes 

All hope emotional thought and

Logic asserted as survival tactic

Just stare blankly out the window

It seems I get so close

Then backslide



Against all possible intent

It’s as if my own worst enemy

Is this thing that Cant be stopped

And it’s the past undealt with parts

Colliding with futiure Miles and draws 

Of hopes and dreams 

To present where you can’t move

You’ve hurt yourself again

And feel closed in




And all you see is the crooked mouth

And the Self-flagellation instilled thru generations of

Coding comes right back up and in

And no good can come of that but it is horribly familiar

Like sickness and lack

Deserving nothing better

Resignation to a martyrdom fate to block any 

Others from needing more emotional 

Care than 

Your mother

My grandmother

Somebody’s frustrated wife

Someone’s alcoholLo spouse

Someone’s mistress 

Someone’s suicidal daughter

This leads me here

Where  what I do

Is nothing close

To storybook or fairy tale 

Or proverbial moral to

This story is

Don’t end up like me

But why

And how and

Way too often 

When will this all be over

The questions 

Are never

The same as the answers

Except in this one


It’s keeping the demons at bay

It’s hard to say

which is harder

to be constantly



just won’t pass


they lay

in wait

an ambush

waiting to


i wish



tell your

one safe


before hand

and be done

with that part

move on to

other things

fall apart

Trauma: Childhood Sexual Abuse | Psychology Today