I don't hold regrets but..

If I did I would regret not allowing myself to be a child during my childhood.
I spent most of those younger years,
wishing and praying for the freedom of adulthood.
I thought everything would be better then
because I could make my own decisions.
I wouldn't be dependent on anyone,
and I would finally be free to just be me.

Needless to say I was wrong,
and as adulthood loomed closer,
and my sense of freedom
slowly but surely increased,
my communication with friends and family dropped off.
I built a brick wall around parts of my life,
segregated myself,
because I was ashamed
of all the impulsive decisions I was making in my adolescence.
I learned by hard knock lessons
and continued to hide my frustrations.
Continually hiding my need for help.

"Innocence"
was the ingredient I thought I lacked.
Because a man did very adult things to me
I already thought myself doomed to the penitentiary of hell.
I did not think I had much to live for,
in fact I told myself if GOD was REAL;
s/he would not let me grow up in this body,
because I felt I would never be able to enjoy SEX again.
I thought the whole world was powered by sex,
it was something women gave men to appease their appetite
and hope to lessen their tyranny over their households.
SEX was the snack that kept the perverts in check,
kept everybody sane and smiling.

But this sensuality,
this intimate way of knowing another
was dead to me
(I thought)
He had ruined it for the rest of my life.
By taking what was NOT his to hold
and treating a little girl
like a dirtyy little slut.
I was just as soiled
as the disposed sheets
stained with my cherry juice.
I asked GOD,
"how he could leave me ALL ALONE in that room?!"
and the answer was not immediately clear,
all pathways in front of me felt darkened
by my depression and my desire to die too young.

It may have taken me 18 years
with a lot of twists, turn-arounds, upsets and messy spills.
But I've made it to my answer,
and I have no regrets.
To do GOD's work
to teach young children to love and trust themselves,
before they share that love with someone else.
That is my purpose, that is my calling
and I would not be the teacher I am today
without the tears I shed in solitude.

Blind Pilot "tune of this decade"

There are things I cannot forget
I wish none had happened yet
There are some things I cannot forget

We were stronger than the preachers
We were wiser than the law
We took off sleeping by the river
And the beaches in your car
Up where you taught me how to drive a stick
And told me your family secret
You were scared
I was caught.

Why'd you stay behind
Packing for the trip?
Why'd you ask me to be the one
First through your lips?
I was awkward and I could not hear
Your body through my body's fear,
We were going to hell

There are things I cannot recall
There are some things that would risk it all.
Now these are the things we cannot recall on.
These are the things I cannot recall.

never tell

my art is about what people don’t talk about.

what is swept under the rug.

what I never wanted to talk about.

what I spent my whole life trying to tell myself,

wasn’t real,

wasn’t important,

wasn’t meaningful

or was’t worth anything.

I wasn’t worth anything.

life after the violation of childhood rape

that is my 'story' to tell

it’s not a secret anymore, something I must share

for the sake of women and girls everywhere.

I can’t bring a baby into the world knowing

I had the most amazing mom in my world

and the neighbor down the street

still molested and had his way with me.

It’s 2015 and I can make a name for myself

as an artist, as a creator, feminist and as an 

advocate for this 

invisible war.

Giving a voice to voiceless,

the countless, 

victims of childhood sexual assault. 

"L-O-V-E, Hey that's spells LOVE!"

Love is not always kind.
Love is home,
Love is honesty.
Love is HOPE!

Love is not a game,
Love is not a joke!
No winners or losers;
Love is not always remote.
It is not removable,
renewable,
chewable? jew-able?

It's natural.
It's the sweet song you're meant to sing
into the solace and silence of your lover's inner ears,
as they sway you in your arms,
and you are surrounded in the presence of L-O-V-E.
Hear all that is honest in my voice.
Confidence is a human display.
A showdown between 'right' and 'wrong',
the 'humane' and the 'queer'.

I wasn't born this way,
nor did the men who hurt me,
make me this way.
I am the 'maker',
the Creator of my own destiny,
and I will not let you enshadow my desire with the darkness of your guilt.

The Breaking

No longer will I
get lost in between the
"I love you(s)" or
"you mean the world to me"

If I want somebody else to love me
then I need them to love all of me.

Somebody else cannot love all of you until YOU learn to LOVE YOURSELF.

These parts that you hate,
the ways in which
your skin crawls,
feeling a perpetrator is always present.

You cannot love somebody else when you are living at the edge of your sanity.

You need to acknowledge the parts of yourself that still feel so unlovable,
these parts always crave to fill a void
with the attention and affections of someone else.
You're always looking for approval reflected in the eyes of some greater person.

Give these parts, your broken girl parts, YOUR ATTENTION.
You need it now more than ever.
You are your number one advocate.
You alone in your body,
a vessel of GOD's love
is not mangled and tangled from the effects of traumatic sexual abuse.

Love yourself holistically,
so that one day you can hold her in your arms again.

KNOW THEN
all that you are, can be loved and shared with someone you truly love.

KNOW THEN
that shame cannot hurt you there.
When you finally accept yourself,
when you can be in a loving relationship with your own mind, body and spirit.
Then you will be free.

You won't have to worry about treating someone you love so mean.

KNOW NOW
I can no longer be the abused,
because my anger and anguish is too much for a single soul
and I am so frozen with fear,
that I'll become the abuser and spread hurt like a disease.

ART ARCHIVE

The Me in You

i want you this day and everyday;

I want the hurt you feel to be own.

Suck up your pain and spit it out,

I’d do it over and over again

all day, everyday,

till there is nothing left of us

but our bruised bodies.

Orgasmic, our souls floating somewhere above our chests.

With you,

all that I carry with me, 

feels so much lighter,

like I can finally breathe and see 

all there is to be.