Test:20180402:16:20 – Am I wrong? write?

Today, I felt the gray clouds, the overcast skies and the general sadness of a Monday. I also felt the spiral…

Then, I saw that I was at the heart of a mutant’s story where I made a lot of connections, inside and out. It’s a mutant state and to add to the labels, it is also what the world would describe as psychotic and bipolarly creative. I am a muse, a super hero, a movement and in those vocal spaces where I vibrate, I feel an incredible amount of luminous passion that words just don’t describe.

This passion is in my grandmother, it is in my mother and it is in me too. I am a mutant by blood and by societies standards, that blood is one of “bipolar” DNA and a molecular structure that is advancing with age. At least I am advancing with age and whether I am going up or down, I am not sure, but I am at least moving.

Thirty-seven years of moves? may not mean much to sum, but it’s no dim sum for me and it’s all the years I’ve had to advance in this skin so far, at least that I can recall consciously, and with all that genetic advancement I’m wondering… what do I do next?…

What I do next is write here and now. It’s right for me to write about these experiences, even if no one ever reads it but me. It seems that I want to be heard, read, abused, raped and even followed because that’s how I spiral out of control on the regular. By my standards, so does everyone else in that regard. We are all walking members of the PTSD fan club.

As a fan, I am also going to use my voice and call for some assistance from my friends and family. It would be nice if I stayed alive through all of this and I need some support, though I can’t call for help or hide forever, I know..

At some point, I’m going to have to come out of the closet of mutant(s) and speak up more often and regularly. Perhaps this public journal is all there will ever be with the public engagements and still, it’s great practice for never when I become… famous(?). If I’m still alive for that never, I wouldn’t be surprised that it never existed…

Write here and now though, it’s time to let go of time, meditating this earth-shaking, heart-attack’s worth of trauma away to wait patiently for grace and compassion instead.

What a spiral…

and, still…

grateful for thought…



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