Photo collage on belts, 2023

I don’t have images of thoughts of myself in my head since the accident
–
I don’t weave visuals
…
not because the stream of consciousness is a pin-balling mess
… my brain just doesn’t want to talk images at me anymore.
It used to let me see with
“my mind’s eye”
but now it talks to me in sounds…

BOOM

But if it wanted to, I want these images to be a MAKITA POEM.

I want a highlighter to color,
some glitter to sprinkle
and scratches
–
loads of scratches
–
and let me loosen my belts!
All of them!

When memories are brought into the visual plane

Ð ANGER ANGER ANGER ANGER –
Ð
I want to jump rope from one cameo to another and move back and forth to
see,
un-see,
and re-see
and re-connect the layers of
this mind-numbing inadequacy
of others’ stories told by others’ mouths about who I am.

And I can’t, for the life of me, get rid of their searing annoyance
within the very sounds of my mind’s ear.
I fucking can’t bare it, but I do, but I no longer want to…

How do you deal with your
PTSD of being a nice girl
knowing that you will only adjust?
How do you do it through the rapturous joy of serious laughter?
How do you scratch at your ANGER?

Give me
a MAKITA POEM
to start coloring and scratching and glittering
–
and MOVING!

Text Anna Iatsenko
Photo Sandra Pointet