my brain is made of plastic-
non porous and non conforming yet time and again melted like a surrealist painting, oozing through and out and every which way just to be dried again by under stimulation
a post lysergic reaction like air to resin
hardening uninhibited to preserve what notions might have been left behind in a snail’s trail
a brain, or just weird flesh yearning for a chemistry book and a lesson in shape shifting?
“you used to be hot”
you said to me in the car as we were leaving the space where we had just merged lives, possessions, energies
your words hit my brain like a hot knife, a lobotomy on my self respect
replace confidence with submission, replace love with Stepford obedience
i precariously stacked my feelings away in defense. “he’s just stressed” followed by “he’s tired” followed by “he’s right”
losing my autonomy to eggshells that I crept on as I headed for Switzerland replaying in my head the words
“you used to be hot”
I created this to hold myself accountable for creating, finishing, and sharing words, art, and ideas. I’ve struggled with depression like many and it’s been difficult for me to find purpose and motivation for my creativity. I’m hoping this will be a tool to nurture my process and help me heal.
