What, who, where and why would I be without another human acknowledging my existence?
How can I validate this organic shell without another person’s approval?
When will I know?

I’m supposed to be a resource
The source of remorse
Has a force that endorses
reinforcement of goreish wars
Of course my coarse core
is forlorn;
It conforms
And morns the form warm dorms
That adorned in storms
More torn than scorns I’ve worn
Since I was born..

I wish I could endorse what I reinforce

The Connecticut’s Women’s Consortium is showing the  film, “Making Me Whole: Prison, Art & Healing” for FREE on March 18th

More info here

Pessimist II

Blood drips from the cysts of blistered slits
On a wrist that pissed fits and missed bliss quit
When reminisced, the pessimist’s remnant deficit sifts;
Though shifts amidst its wits persist
This insists to admit the relevant element
Of inconsistent assistance for evident impediments…
Sentiment and venomous resentment remiss…
With this shit’s gist, I desist.

Ambiguity is my foe
It goads and gloats the high and lows that I MAY not know
It shows prose to those who sold cold holds
Though eb and flow grow a mold with scolding folds,
I’m told I hold bold tolls from the sole rogue hole in my soul
I yearn to let ambiguity go

I’m curious as to if anyone has felt this way. and what their thought processes have been around the subject.