WARNING: There is “adult” language and content here…decide if you are an adult today or not…
I have a notebook filled with writing that fell out complete. I barely edit. It is time to put it out of my book and into the world so my feelings can adjust too. Consider this a gross download of data into storage.
Disclaimer: I am not suicidal. Words are dark sometimes. Feeling it matters. Acting on it as such with permanence is not my way. You may have feelings if you read this and you know me well. Your feelings are yours, and they are worth while, and they are yours to manage. If I know you, I love you. I put these words out for me…not for you. So hear them without fear, please, if you can.
Eyes
some days we sparkle sometimes we squint some mischief winking tears may leak eyes scream what lips keep secret pupils wide see what cannot hide blink to moisten what wind will dry see truth laughter gathers in the corner sadness spills over the lower bank disbelief takes a closer look the truth must be seen to be accepted time your blinks strategically
Permission
Body, shape curve
Skin, over insides swerve
Self conscious, mind unnerve
Judgement does not peace serve
Be naked, shine the light
Shape defined, details delight
Contour evident in brilliance bright
No secrets to hide from loving sight
What does being vulnerable mean?
Seeing truth's radiant sheen
Do not cover, or hide between
It is permission -
- to be entirely seen
Exposed
hands open, veins exposed she wonders how long it will hurt feel raw and bruised she struggles to imagine healing sleep disturbed and distorted, tormented she looks through blurry eyes for peace hunger constant though appetite vanished she feels only emptiness will she recover, and rest? be satiated once more or will she bleed out and be gone
Daring
here or there? what is right? what is fair? for whom and how much am i able to care? how much weight could i reasonably bear? how much pain in eyes can i dare to stare? how long must i burn in lair of despair? low long before I sleep in cool, clean, fresh air? how can i break free? how do I dare?
Naked
Bodies without clothes are far from naked. Seeing without glasses is, likewise, far from unclear. Traveling without map has destination all the same. Future unplanned still happens with certain eventuality. Words fall out and ink makes taking them back an impossibility. Permanence is real even with the eraser lifts the medium from white paper leaving no trace. I don't believe in erasing - not because my scars will always record journey. Where I have been... Who I was... My plans and marks are all part of being... True Vulnerable Naked and Beautiful
Deep sleeplessness
middle of night i have no idea what just happened haven't slept long i don't recall where i have been cannot wake up though i am not sleeping no idea - thoughts steeping fears keeping conclusions leaping trench deepening
Trail Blazer
Eyes forward - don't forget where you've been, but don't look behind. Blaze the trail - burn it down, but follow the rules set by someone else. This is what I hear: -Be brilliant (but don't disrupt) -The world needs your thoughts (but don't corrupt) -Tell me your ideas (but shhh, not so loud, oh and you don't like my attitude, you find my "arrogance" too proud) Fuck your boxes and boundaries, your parameters, your rules. Stop holding me down. I am tired. I am bruised. I need to close my eyes and rest my head to renew. Then, and only then, I can blaze again the trail of the few.
Release
askew and in distress trembling, vomiting mess smelling of thoughts too degraded to confess clothes filthed in all manner of stress hold my hair, water to rinse my mouth clean arm around me to hold me steady and let me lean my next try will be better informed, wiser and clean but, before the next round - I have to release the voices mean.
Home
My home is more than where my belongings reside. It is where I am safe to recharge and hide. Peace is present, suspended above the chaos collide. At home, there is no need for vanity of egotistical pride. My Heart is the only home in which I can fully reside. My love is the only governing force in which I choose to abide. My love and my heart together build the home inside. This house does not hold my home despite what is implied. We cannot just call a house a home, believe me - I have tried. It is not for or right, this loss - I have cried. Complications unsettled as each trust broken resounds amplified. What happens after the home is gone and the tears have dried? Rebuild new love in heart reopened wide. I can make my new house my home when heart and love decide.
Stay
Where is it safe?
Where is it clean?
Open heart and calm breath
Hold me close...
let me lean
Save me from panic
Terrors dripping in ink
All day long after I wake
Hold me close...
so I can think
I need the peace
No more unrest, no internal riot
Must make room for change
Hold me close...
help me quiet
Kill the infection
Stop toxic spread
No more instances of broken trust
Hold me close...
in tiny bed
Future feels shortened
And so impossibly far away
Fear the worst of all illness
Hold me closer, tightly...
forever stay
Dear audience,
All of the above are my word vomit or my paint vomits…please treat me and them with care.
Don’t make me not give a fuck about what you think…
-Jerri
Being a working artist means that I am always creating content. I write. I make a lot of mediocre things. I think. My things become a little more average. I dream and I struggle and I find my way through. My things become something special. Creativity requires focus, practice, inspiration, and resources to support that energy. The blog below is entirely free – made of my energy put out into the world. If you value art, artists, and the creative world they make, consider supporting me or another artist who speaks to you through Patreon.
Mudança 
All the love, hun.
❤️
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Thank you so much for sharing all that beauty. I am honored to be witness and friend.
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