The streets itch with discontent,
The map was off centre all day.
Childish tears threaten to break through the adult face.
The stone walls sweat yesterday’s rain,
I pound the concrete with sticky heat between the layers of my clothes.
The lipstick curdles and I wipe it raw with paper.
Fingers bandaged from no fight,
I’m neither citizen or tourist just broken knees.
Guts cramping propel us from cafe to cafe.
Food sticks in my throat as I push it round the plate.
My hands tremble as they try to raise the cup,
Thick black coffee drives my blistered feet.
Something is not right in the world, I’m not quite here or there.
It’s ugly criminals saunter like they own the roads.
We ask ‘why are people so cruel?’
Then the man stops to pick up some other’s rubbish.
A women tends the silk and velvet with more love than she knows.
The smile of the woman on the bus is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
The flash from no camera, the sky opens and moans.
White then orange makes my heart pound.
‘Don’t walk on the floor with bare feet’ she says.
It makes me want to feel it’s force, to feel alive,
to take off my socks and dance with life on the cold tiles.
I bleed with the sky and prepare to begin all over again.
What a day. Nine, yes nine new tattoos…
Instagram: 19:28 Tattoo Parlour
Facebook: 19:28 Tattoo Barcelona
Facebook: 19:28 Tattoo Berlin
Find us in two of the world´s most exciting cities!
Calle Planeta, 13 – 08012 Barcelona
Krumme Strasse, 61 – 10627 Berlin
Illustration by Lamb Little
A friend posted that they could see me ‘developing an edge sharp enough to cut through this’ and carve a new beginning.
There’s been a lot of soul searching going on inside this skull over the past few weeks. But it’s all felt like a dull bladed knife trying to cut through lead.
You feel that you know yourself so well and can see your path. In a heartbeat it changes. A few cruel words that bring your world crashing down. Everything is bought into question. The smallest of routine, even the way you make tea or breathe.
The problem is all the destruction is so silent. Everything has changed for you yet the world still silently remains. It carries on without you. I’ve been walking the streets with voices muffled and blinkers on, yet inside a war rages.
All the rituals you made no longer have purpose and you carry on performing them till they are redundant and ridiculous. I caught myself hanging your washing on the line and didn’t know why… energy wasted on you. Taking two mugs out instead of one for coffee. Every word spoken has to be corrected. ‘We, I mean I.’ ‘Us, I mean me.’
Midway through crisis I saw ‘Things To Come’.
The protagonist’s life was changed in the moment her husband announced it was over, that there was someone else. A few meagre words to change an existence and send a life into crisis. More and more went wrong yet the film seemed so calm. Her life was disintegrating around her like a mirror of my own existence. Love, death, job all at once. Her existence questioned.
We (not the relationship we but the friendship one) waited for the revenge, the meltdown, the affair to match the inner turmoil. But it never came. She got a cat, smoked a joint, cried alone. Were we cheated because of the lack of drama? I felt it at the time because I wanted the catharsis of watching someone else meltdown then make it again. Slowly I’ve realised that there is no instant fix but we quietly feel the pain in order to change.
Inside all this quiet death of a life is a sea of turmoil. But that’s just it, it’s on the inside and the world keeps on silently turning around us. We have moments of anger in which spiteful words are thrown to try to provoke the world into anger with us. We have reckless moments to feel alive to match the pain in our chests but the world still remains waiting calmly for us. Standing in the field watching the season change and the ghosts of my self harm race by I finally stopped and listened. The world was changing once again, partly dying and going to sleep before being reborn. I would stand and see the ghosts of others before me and those yet to be.
During this time we have the chance to be anything we want to be. We are stripped bare and our inner selves exposed. I’ve cried and stamped my feet, tried to dull the pain, let the blackness from the hurt slip from my tongue. I’ve tried to move this process on without stopping to breathe.
All this has quietly been sharpening my edge. Discovering a self that’s always been here and can thrive. The problem with a sharpened blade is the danger of using it. I need to find and practice new routines. For the first time they are for me.
So I’ve decided to keep it simple. To slowly take little steps one by one. In crisis I did a personality test and found out what I already knew:
To play with the first I’m trying to capture beauty however big or small.
Today we walked on the hills above Barcelona. The view was immense but my favourite thing was this tiny window with its beautiful succulents. Almost overshadowed by the might of the city, someone had taken the time to make it so pretty. My images when I play this game will be captured with the #seekingbeauty
And there’s a pizza stain.
All brine and piss and vinegar,
my mouth is raw.
The pages full of false knowledge
blame the ‘lies’ that my tongue spits.
Blisters appear with each spiteful word,
spat at you in a moment of rage.
Anger trapped, desperate for an escape.
They are your lies not mine.
Tongue raw from yesterday’s drinks,
burnt and scraped with comfort eats.
Morsels that last a moment,
before they decay and rot.
I cannot taste anything but bile,
and vinegar and pain.
I seek the comfort of cold, smooth
kind and compassionate words.
My mouth is silenced,
I wake with it glued tight,
a mess of brown clotted blood,
teeth caked in earthy dried fluid.
But from inside there is something,
spun from a silver thread.
It speaks truth through your lies.
It’s a tale yet to be told.
‘All brine and piss and vinegar’ is borrowed from The Decemberist’s song “Grace Cathedral Hill”
The book that told me ulcers are caused by lies also told the reader period pain was caused by not embracing being a woman enough. I rarely lie, any more than anyone else. I love being a woman. Go figure? It’s like trying to be rescued by a Christian who keeps on insisting my auto immune is because I don’t believe in god. I don’t. Theres some proper drivel out there. I choose to follow my heart.
Today’s post is more of a diary entry. It’s a big test day to try to get back to some kind of normality and spend time on my own. It began with a sleep over at my dear friend Beth’s house where I was spoiled by having dinner cooked, playing with all the toys and coffee in bed!
It was followed by a meeting at the council to get my benefits in place. Easy peasy, and followed up with a quick coffee and toast before returning home. I made a few candles for an order I have on. I was exhausted already so I napped and watched crap TV and tried the anxiety meds in the daytime. I usually take them at night to help me sleep so this was another test.
The next thing I knew I was woken up to Emma knocking on the door. She whisked me away to the next meeting with the community mental health team. A bit of a waste of time in terms of help and info but at least I know where it is! Plus I got to spend time with Emma in the car chatting (one of my favourite things).
So home again to a bath, dinner and more candles. I’ve started to read Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying. Not sure what to think yet as its a lot about how fantastic the technique is but little about the actual doing, I love the idea of being ruthless though. Purge here I come.
- Friends as they have literally saved my life and continue to make me smile
- My cat ‘Little Bear’ who has been at my side all day