The fortuneteller told me…

The fortuneteller told me…

DARLING,  SWEET,  DON’T  YOU  KNOW?

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Why do you wear only black?

Nothing will bring

him back.

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Why do you cry yourself to sleep?

Love is something beastly steep?

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Why do you call your hurts your only home?

You made it an art form, a syndrome …

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Why do you keep looking back?

Nothing can change you back!

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Don’t scratch your ear with that paw!

Bleck your fangs darlin’, move your jaw.

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I think wolfsbane is your only hope…

Or you’ll be your whole life a misanthrope

Part 1 – My New Thomas

Part 1 – My New Thomas

(content warning: abuse, drugs, violence) 

this is an ongoing project inspired by my headstrong weird grandma

Life has a twisted sense of humor. I always felt, the joke was on me.

Eight years ago I quit work. My hands got too shaky to pull the widths of material over my desk, too achy to slice my scissors through the fabric, too clumsy to hold a button and sew it in it’s place. My hands stopped working properly. I had to give up being a dress maker, at the age of fiftyone.

I always feared that day. I’d come home, knowing I had to stay in the morning, the noon, the afternoon, the evening. I’d have to stay the whole day. There was no place to go to, nothing that needed doing, no escape from my husband, Thomas.

Continue reading “Part 1 – My New Thomas”