Image

.. .. & then, there was you ..

i have little faith in humanity.
& No faith in the systems that have set themselves up to control my existence.
i have no faith in a god that doesn’t hear and choses not to see.
i have no faith in those that utilise that logic.
.
there is nothing in this present fuckery that would suggest that anyone has me & mine, best interests in mind. rather, they are more concerned about a collective that doesn’t exist and a lie rather than history & honesty.

but such is my history, no?

it’s taken a while to grieve, acknowledge & adjust.

& we both know it’s not done.

in amongst it all, i wait to hear you.

but you & I know that truth, right.

you know I weighed you up.

the options were similar to what is being presented atm. & the pressure and timeframe feels just as tight, jarring & triggering af.

but I keep waiting to hear you. waiting for you to tell me what to do.

like i’ve ever listened to anyone anyways  living or dead .. but you know this, right.

i can feel the same angst i felt all those years ago. that still tails me when i feel  pressure & coercion .. waiting for the analyst part of me to kill all my emotions & take the fucking wheel.

but you know that right.

do you remember me touching you .. well, holding the place where you grew ..  just as your sibling had been a short while before.

you felt that ever present knot, that resides all up in that place, right.

you heard me scream from that place, right.

did you hate me then, or feel pity. knowing that my choice was going to be self preservation.

i knew, you knew.

how cruel is that ay.

i don’t know if I’ll ever make complete peace with my choices. or if I’ll ever not hate those that got me to that place. or if I’ll ever not feel that loathing you see in my eyes. feel in my soul.

I know you know I loved you.
I know you know I could feel you leave.

Or did that happen to the both of us ay.

I also know you know I know you know, it should never have been that way .. but it was .  It is.

I hope to hear you some day.
Feel you, maybe.

Or maybe you know I know it hurts too much, so you don’t whisper at me.

i do feel the pitter patters of your teeny tiny feets on my chest though, trying to make it crack.

Grieve. Feel.

It hurts like fuck.
But you know that, right.

& I am trying .. breathing.
.
.
I’ve put you amongst your tipuna & your siblings ..  neices & nephews.

I’ll leave you there for as long as you need.

well, as long as I need.
.
I love you.
I always have.
I always will.
.
.
#babylossawareness
#amethyst

#whakatahe #babyloss


#kpm©

Image

is ..

My tears are thick
My body, irritated.
Muscles, they ache.
My chest is heaviness.
Down to under my ribs, it heaves.
Throbs.
Screams.
But silently.
My stomach knots.
Tight, like my fists.
My thighs.
My calves.
All recoiled.
Solid.

And that is it’s existence.

Trying to be gentle with myself, is like ..
Like.

A bad fucken joke.


kpm©

here’s a dream for yah .. yup I still have em

fuck face was dead. id halved him to put in a box to put outside.
noone cared.
Then he woke up.
But different.
.
Cut to my Nan and grandad’s old place.
.
Aunty N .. came gave me a letter and a hug. @ Front porch of Nan’s old place.
.
A Big hug.
.
Another person, unnamed, came to some where .. where I was at,  motel or place we were all watching kapa haka. Moko was little. But acting grown.
.
Person came in and said ok I’m here to discuss .. something .. sounded like it was going to be friendly .. and then they said ..
.
Something like, youre mental health or you’re mental state is shit because you won’t agree with me.
.
As they started in though, fuck face came in, there were others, my daughter’s and grand kids ..
I got angry.
I let this person talk for ages. Rave on.
.
Everyone was looking at me walking around, pacing and this person was getting high off their own speech.
But they sounded absurd.
.
Then I let rip. Finally.
.
Said ‘tell me why’, in a big big voice, ‘why I went off the rails as u say .. got rebellious .. naughty’ ..
I was yelling ..
‘What age did that happen, do you remember.
Do you fucken remember when that fuck first hurt me.
No.
Have a guess. Nice and loud. Was it,
7, no, mokos age, no, lower .. lower .. 3 – 4 ..
And what did you do
What did you do.’
.
Noone moved.
They just watched.
They weren’t uncomfortable.
I was getting louder though. Not crying. Bit visbly angry.
‘What did you do when I came and told you.
What did you say
Did you stop going there.
Did you tell him off.
Did they fuck face?
No.
On and on.
And you have the the fucken cheek to be here telling me I’m mentally incompetent.

Fuck you.”
.
& That was the end of my dream.
When I woke up my throat felt different.


kpm©

truth

I’ve spent a lifetime
Mapping what to do next.
Also known as,
Evasive manouvres.

And now you telling me to stop it.

How about, how to make peace with it.

Or to utilize it for something else.

Cos it is literally part of me.

The angst comes from trying Not to be that & remove it.


kpm©

said it before , say it again, just cos

Simple clear functional spaces are my safe places / spaces.
Minimal.

So fucking minimal.

It’s a Calm space.


kpm©

eyeball rolling

so busy,

apparently necessarily ..

managing symptoms .. patching up holes ..

we can’t dismantle or eradicate the ’cause’.

Apparently.

Or even hold it accountable.

now that’s some bullshit.


kpm©

telling & retelling my story.

Me.
Healing my body.
Healing my story.
Narrating my own healing.
.
Whatever comes & whoever it comes for, after all that talking, & all the work ; is gravy.
.
.
Cos
First contact & awareness with my uterus, was forceful invasion.

She has carried that ever since.
Guarding.
Protecting.
Cleansing.
Growing.

She won’t ever not.

Even as she prepares to close her biological functions
She can prepare to let go of the maemae she has held until she could enact her memories.

All hail.


kpm©

.. just is ..

Guts tightening .. feeling like vomiting but not exactly …
More like invaded , consumed  ..
I can breathe ..
But
But
My insides are screaming.

Let me go
Let me out

My other insides are trying to soothe me.

It’s ok.
Just breathe gf.
Just breathe.

But I don’t want to breathe I want to cry.
Scream.
Run.
Curl up into a ball and die.
Kill.
Cry.
All at once.

And my guts tightens.

We coming to a close.
Slowly.

Or more like a resolution. Partnership maybe.

And my guts tightens.

And I can feel my wairua fighting.
Again.
Fighting to breathe.

Fighting to calm.

Fighting to balance.
Fighting for perspective.
Reasoning.
Solutions.

Me & her.
We tight.

Just tryna get the rest of the fucken team on board .. (the body .. groan)
Fucker.


JK.
I got use.

Somewhere. I got use.


kpm©

agree or not ..

it’s pretty hard to heal per se, when you busy surviving ..
Not just abuse ..
But everyday bs.
Housing.
Food.
Clothing.
Schools.
Health.

Just regular living bs.

& yet here we are. Doing that shit.


kpm©

did yah know ..

it’s near impossible to read anything when u feel unsafe?
that’s what came to me today.
after wondering what it is I love or even like, to do.
i realised I’d been following the sunshine round my house, you know, when it comes through the windows and is warm but not too hot .  . & I sit or lie in it’s warmth, & read …
i’m reading three books now. mainly just one though.
it’s from a series of kids horror books .. the other 2 books are way more grown up, but I like the kid ones.
anyways, I realised, I never read for the fuck of it, because I was always alert.
whilst alert nothing can be a major distraction because your senses are spread out.
& there’s no room for engrossing make believe when real life is exhausting as fuck.
sooooo,
today I’ll continue with my little horror books. lying on the floor in the sun.
in safeish safety.
practicing .. rest. without all my senses freaking themselves the fuck out.
.
fyi :just random thoughts.


kpm©

imagine ..

being in a place where nothing is traumatic.


kpm©

like

my life.
being alive.
maybe.
starting to feel. uncomfortably comfortable. my body.
a start.
process.


kpm©