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Tired little lost soul. Flowers in the Junkyards make me smile. I drink too much,sleep too much,talk in poetry and my only prophets are Mary Magdalene, Karla Faye Tucker, and Joan Of Arc. Compulsive wanderer, I am in love with the flaw in beauty and a beautiful dominican princess who I met at a ho house. One day we will hijack an airplane together and make demands.
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Janice Erlbaum My interview with a truly amazing woman is up, go comment!
March 23rd
sleepless nights became sleepless days.
I watched New York sunrises from broken glass windows with a bottle in my hand every morning.
Immersed in a cultural underworld where I have made my bed.
Spanish is everywhere and the men whisper from the broken streets "Muy bonita".
And the latina women with deep curves, hold fatherless children on their hips and walk to the market.
I watch the world awaken below me, sunrise after sunrise.
Insomnia bred a certain form of delusional love.
I was alice falling down the rabbit hole.
In seperate states of mania I created thet "Tradgedy" collage .
Something I used to work on when I was a teenager living with a skizo
who thought he was a prophet.
bizarre newspaper articles and a bunch of obituaries.
hallucinations made me feel stuck halfway between the dream world and my own.
the visions got stronger, like wind gathering air and picking up speed, leaving me flustered.
I fought off my reactionary impulses to make a home on the highway again.
I am, afterall, branded a gypsy, floating like smoke.
Finally the gift became a curse.
I just wanted it to stop, the hallucinations that I adored at first.The voices that made me feel strong and chosen like Joan Of Arc.
A bottle of whiskey and a bottle of sleeping pills.
Please angel, bring me back down.
drifting off into unconsciousness, finally, sleep, my old friend.
I woke up in a hospital gown. With the sound of the sick moaning around me.
I ripped out my I.V. to find someone with some sort of recollection.
A security guard soon intervened. "Go lay back down little girl."
"Where am I? What?"
A doctor twirled around, clipboard in hand, "Just relax, You are going to be transported upstate to a psychiatric facility."
"No i'm not."
He laughed like a man with more knowledge than me. "you are being involuntarily committed. You're leaving in about 5 minutes."
Soon I was on a stretcher, outside and in an ambulance.
March 23rd
sleepless nights became sleepless days.
I watched New York sunrises from broken glass windows with a bottle in my hand every morning.
Immersed in a cultural underworld where I have made my bed.
Spanish is everywhere and the men whisper from the broken streets "Muy bonita".
And the latina women with deep curves, hold fatherless children on their hips and walk to the market.
I watch the world awaken below me, sunrise after sunrise.
Insomnia bred a certain form of delusional love.
I was alice falling down the rabbit hole.
In seperate states of mania I created thet "Tradgedy" collage .
Something I used to work on when I was a teenager living with a skizo
who thought he was a prophet.
bizarre newspaper articles and a bunch of obituaries.
hallucinations made me feel stuck halfway between the dream world and my own.
the visions got stronger, like wind gathering air and picking up speed, leaving me flustered.
I fought off my reactionary impulses to make a home on the highway again.
I am, afterall, branded a gypsy, floating like smoke.
Finally the gift became a curse.
I just wanted it to stop, the hallucinations that I adored at first.The voices that made me feel strong and chosen like Joan Of Arc.
A bottle of whiskey and a bottle of sleeping pills.
Please angel, bring me back down.
drifting off into unconsciousness, finally, sleep, my old friend.
I woke up in a hospital gown. With the sound of the sick moaning around me.
I ripped out my I.V. to find someone with some sort of recollection.
A security guard soon intervened. "Go lay back down little girl."
"Where am I? What?"
A doctor twirled around, clipboard in hand, "Just relax, You are going to be transported upstate to a psychiatric facility."
"No i'm not."
He laughed like a man with more knowledge than me. "you are being involuntarily committed. You're leaving in about 5 minutes."
Soon I was on a stretcher, outside and in an ambulance.
And I seem to say this to every girl, but I've been meaning to draw you one day! 
MAY 2008
