Conversations Among the Ruins

"And the day will come
where you don't even
write about him
any

more."

"And the day will come
where you sit at a
desk for a living and

realize what complete
bullshit that existence
is."

"And the day will come
that you will love yourself,
and from that, have a

profound appreciation
of the people around you."

"You will not drink.
You will not do drugs.
The thought of a club will
make you cringe. You will

barely remember
this casket and I
will watch you

not even realize it
happen. "

"You will pick up on
the wave patterns of
the thoughts others
put out that they do not

say. And you will not
have to tell them
about your new
trick."

"You will not
trick
anything, except

every single person
you meet from
those days forward

into only seeing
who you currently
are. Not

who you were."

"The day will come
where you will have had
enough. It will save

your life and the day
will come that you
will recognize how

different you are from
anybody - and in that
difference, you will

have an ability
that comes naturally
to connect

to all. You will write
every day and you will
not put so much of

your own self
into anybody else
that it kills you

when they die
ever again."

"You will pay
your bills, show up
to work, and learn

the language
of empathy
fluently."

"The day will come
that you admit
fear but you won't

pay your rent
there. You will
sit in traffic with

blown speakers
and you will fall

into a great
love. So you

just need to get
up and let this
play out.

The world
is only over

if you don't
allow yourself to
cry

when you think
it is. You will suffer
so many deaths

that death will
take on a whole
different

meaning and
Heather

your hair will
grow back -

forever, without
me and the

day will come
where we will sit

on a solar hill side,
laughing about our
lives on Earth,

amongst the
militia that you
had with you there

in their pure
mineral form,

that you slept with
every night and
kept in the sun

to charge. We
will dance on

Jupiter and you
won't need new
shoes."

"The day will come
that you grow into
the success of which

you came here for.

Get ready
for the power and
just

keep
moving."

-
I was the last one to walk away from his casket seven years ago.
My heels sunk to the corpses and I kept
moving. My road is a long glass paved cracked
hole covered prizem path - my spirit guides

of the solar cosmos
Roi, Kalliope and Japer
have followed this life

since i was a toddler
screaming in my closet,
terrified of what I

felt so strongly I
saw it.

Lately I hear

what they said to me
when I couldn't ever
hear them as I

would have never believed it
anyway.

But I believe it
today - my own
broken code of what

had to be and what
will be -

supernatural
super conscious.

/ total power.

Blank.
Unauthorized
incorrect pin
numbers

to pump
gas in order to
leave.

To sit at a
dinner table.

Quitely
amongst
pulsing
live music.

Mixed slurpees
dried paint
stacks

stacks
stacks of
canvas of

what I already
did. Six boxes
of acrylic for

what I will
do.

Tupperwear
and wrapped up
rocks. The rugs
are rolled

I sit
particularly
still. Glow
stick

tab stamp
paper birthday
card.

Blind Melon
no rain. Follow
along closely

I have a
snowball for
you. Basic text

I'm in that
chair and a lot
of other chairs

that required
an immesurable journey
through fear

to get to.
Unauthorize
my credit

slice the cards
cut the phones
put up a few more

pictures.

Someday, far from
now, I'll look back
and say

"It was fucking nuts.
I moved five times in
one year, lived on
rice and dried plums,

hung out in my
closet, went
all over the
west coast,

ruined all of my
clothes with paint,
and lived on under

a hundred dollars
a week. I had nothing,
but I made it into
everything. And

seriously, really
in this desert,
it was probably

the best
time of
my life."

I can feel it
now in the way
I stare at that

strip, the way
someday
I'll remember

all of
this as something
I can't

even begin to
see
now.

Popped a bag of popcorn to
paint it with black acrylic

(Text/ure)

It was great fun at
six o'clock in the
morning, making

absent coffee with
purpose, taking a
sledge hammer to

a mirror. I painted
the canvas blue and
like all things I paint
blue I

admire it for a
few days and spray
something over it.

(Gold)

I slice my fingers
selecting mirror
pieces and hours

later there
she is.

Except now I have
to take her picture,
displace her, and

permanatly
affix her
to the shape in which
she belongs.

Slowly, burning
my sliced fingers
with hot glue
I probably shouldn't

have shattered
the mirror
in the house.

T shirt short
shorts now my
body is sliced
in chasims,

just like her.
Those tiny little
pieces no eyes
can find

now live all over
my body.

The crystal ball
watched quietly.
A guardian of

the guardian of
the guardian.

Luckily for me,
the representation
of the

feminine
can be created
and destroyed
and re created

within one curve
of a line.

The piece of work
is far from finished.
But the Crystal Ball

approves. I held it
up figure of mirrors
and the quartz

does not
have a reflection
of it's own.

I will spend
the rest of my life
painting

Kalliope and her
shadow sister

The Black Madonna.

Kalliope
is the crystal ball
the painting
and this

sliced up
body. The
crystal sits

next to the
canvas. We're
all waiting

I guess
to be
finished.

Respect
your
outrage.

Take yourself
somewhere

nobody else
ever took you
before. That

reminds you
of nothing, and
creates thoughts

for yourself.
Wonder what
having buckets

of money would
be like to pass the
time in

traffic. Don't
take
the traffic
or the
fantasy of wealth
too seriously.

Be aware of your
choices as you sit
in a Taco Bell
drive thru. Don't

limit the choices
to pre selected
combinations as

advertised.
Remember to
remind yourself

why you love
where you're at
because someday, you
won't be

and the minor
details of what
brought you joy

in a place far from
where your at
will be
important.

React accordingly
to your own
acceptance.

Accept
the consequences
graciously.

Live it.
Instead of
dealing
with it.

Get as routine
about loving
your body

as you do
about applying
your
makeup.

Don't put
yourself in
situations

that cause you
to calmly
throw up.

l i s t e n intently.
Fall in love quickly and

walk to places
where you can
read a book alone.

Be mindful
of remembering
how you

got here.

Instead of
just
asking

why.

The everlasting bruise
is this painting

I started
as I start them
all

lately. Where I'm

doing something
else and use the
empty canvas
as a

drop cloth
and make
something else

out of every
marking.

It fills some
part of me, the

part where I can
just check out
with color.

I mean it's like
I'm having my
own

constant
decompress
party.

Only this
isn't a
party. It's my

life.

There is a
validity
to that

statement
that is

empowering
on some days
sad on a lot.

You know
when you die,

all of your
energy spreads

to the ones
you love. Before
that,

it has to all
gather. Your
entire conscious
existence of

your own
pure energy

gathers into
one space. One

light. Every pixel
of light and
color you

have ever seen/

that bounced
off and
refracted into

what makes up
your memories

becomes you,

and you
have the choice
to either

come back
as the same
light

and let it
refract
differently

or get the fuck
out

all together.

Sometimes
everything my
light has

bounced off
and created

flashes
through me.
I see
everything

in under
a second.

Making something
else
out of each

original
marking. The

discarded
ruins

nobody would
dare think
they'd ever

remember.
But I
remember.

More
with each
color.