Posted in Being Vulnerable

Journal 11

I get it now.

The drinking

The writing

The addiction

It feels good to write intoxicated.

I feel free

Uninhibited

And yet I’m lucky

I don’t have the addiction bug

Like my father

Like my brother

Like all the men in my family

Is it a man thing?

I don’t know

But I’m lucky

I know when to stop

Thank god

Or the devil

For skipping me

I appreciate it.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Water colour tattoo

It was worth it.

A tad more painful than I anticipated

But this girl didn’t budge

Because I don’t squirm under pain

I fuckin thrive yo

Nah I just visualized the pain

Until it became apart of me

I am the pain

Ya suck on that wisdom!

K

bye

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Journal 9

I’m getting a new tattoo tomorrow.

Water color.

It’s my first big color tattoo.

I’m a bit nervous I’ll hate it.

The tattooer sent me her sketch and I hated it.

But I didn’t tell her I did.

I told her the things I liked about it and the things I liked about my inspiration picture I sent her and asked if it’s doable to implement those specific likes.

She said she’ll be free handing it and yes it’s easy to implement.

I responded, I trust you.

But fuck I’m nervous.

But I’ve seen her portfolio.

I like her work.

I really do.

So I know it won’t be shit.

But trust, man.

That’s hard for me.

I’m controlling at best.

More leaning ocd.

I waver between impulsive and compulsive on the daily.

So for her to say she’ll freehand it

Is like me saying let me just eat everything in the kitchen and see if I get fat.

It’s insane to me.

Yet, I’m attracted to it.

I want it.

I want to be open to trust.

To releasing my control.

I want to be free to receive her art.

So

Pray for me

Or

Whatever

Because I’m about to pay almost $1,000 for freedom.

Posted in My Poetry

Write about your tattoos

The ink is my memory
My reach into the past
Each line is like a hand I can't help but take
The escape is so real
One more hit, one more feel
You'll understand if you get one
It will make you come undone
The addiction tastes warm
Like crawling back into your mother's womb
It eases me
And when it is finished, I get to see my heart beat hung on my skin
Knowing nothing is akin
I am unique, regardless of what you say
And I will continue this investment of art until every dollar is paid