#ptsd

the art of being a moving target.


kpm©

so,

why are they so worried about offending someone/s they don’t even know.

i dont understand.


kpm©

note :

art because you like it.

novel fucking idea right.


kpm©

did i tell yah ..

i visited the last place & time, i had to see fuck face?

.
endure its presence?

.
also the last place & time i had the experience of a man that loved me for my entire life. my grandfather ..
& a woman who gave me more than i ever appreciated or realised until she was gone. my grandmother.
.
i felt Feel it.
i Remember. Remembered it.
i Appreciate. Appreciated it.
Endings.
Beginnings.
.
i got to write how I wanted to experience this.


kpm©

that ..

that …

feeling of being @ home.

going home.


kpm©

hey, i got an idea ..

how bout we just be.

like create shit & just be.

how revo-fucking-lutionary would that be ay.

*insert eye ball roll*

*sarcasm is flowing today*


kpm©

& ..

i don’t have to apologise. or correct. explain.

or otherwise.

we done with that shit. right.


kpm©

#ptsd

is perpetual panic.

period.


kpm©

nope ..

Don’t just trust them. 

Remain with the back up plan.

& always, get receipts


kpm©


.. /\ ..

some days i’m just scared.

no reason.

just scared.


kpm ©


 

dif.

the beauty lays in the difference.


kpm ©


 

_ . _ man

softly softly, to approach your tender little ass

just in case you have a tantrum.

apparently they’re still relevant in your 40s.

fucker.


kpm ©


 

turns out:

not many are interested in empowerment.

it would appear they’re more interested in making a cunt dependent.

which i think, is pretty fucking sick really.


kpm ©


 

care:

not just with your fucking vocal chords.

but with your actions:

ay.

there’s a novel fucking thought!

dick.


kpm ©


 

i do love my grandfather. but.

today i heard my grandfather

in your voice.

not in a nostalgic way.

but a cringe, a recoil.

he spoke to my nan like she was a piece of shit.

a waste of space.

an annoyance.

he rolled his eyes @ her.

grimaced when she spoke.

if you weren’t a child with child eyes

if you weren’t a child with child ears

one would wonder:

why on earth he stayed around.

why on earth she stayed around.

is there a pain more stinging

than being in a place, you are clearly not wanted

or required.


kpm©


 

rethink

when life is just a

contamination of the good

and

getting raped by the bad,

its time for some serious

rethinking.


kpm ©


 

SaveSave

boogy man

they say the boogie mans not real.

he’s the stuff of the imagination.

of horror movies; made up.

but i do wonder,

if those horror movies aren’t based

just a little bitty bit

on factual imaginations.

you know,

the kind that got you hiding

under the covers,

under the bed,

in big boxes in the corner of the room.

and everywhere you turn,

there he is.

looming large,

shadowy,

and dark.


kpm ©


 

to be, to do

I Resist.
I don’t conform.
Even when I do.
My heart with Never conform.
Not to the quo.
Not to the ‘musts’.
Its part of my nature.
Part of the non-conformist dialogue.
And when I snap my pics
it’s also to explain.
To explain my view,
Share my perspective …
the intricate. the narrative. the story within the story.
I was a child.
I still am a child.
I was a frightened child.
Who survived an extraordinary experience.
Who choked on a dick too large for her
tiny throat.
And she’s been choking ever since.
They named it pts(d) and said I was super sad.
So sad that I may harm myself.
But I didn’t.
Not on purpose anyway.
Instead I died, just a little, as the shit got kicked
The head got beat
The heart got broke
The bottle got empty.
And all she could do was cower.
So cowering became the sport.
The sport for healing.
The transport for unfolding.
To build a bubble that could expel the fear
and protect the good.
the good being, Me,
So, so serious has been my pain.
So so serious has been my tone
that even the lights are angry
the brightness is broken.
So she went and flipped the switch off.
Off. Till another could be found.
Not a replacement.
An entirely new form of light and dark.
Where the script is written in the dark
And the sleep takes place under the sun.
A place where an opposite is another.
Another option.
Another alternative.

kpm ©


 

a Freedom Response

They get us to believing

That our responses should be

Civilized.

Kosher.

Within reason.

However,

The treatment endured,

Was none of those things.

Why,

Would the response be as such

On the way to

Freedom.

“There is no ‘right way’ to be a slave”

Chicken George ~ Roots


kpm ©


 

The go to guy …

He found it,
The ‘go to guy’
He found his balls

They was hiding
In his tight tighty whiteys

But he freedomised them
Changed up his panty size
And kicked some family ass

Hollah!


kpm ©