Duality

"Sometimes it feels like there are two contrasting polarities expanding within me. '

One illuminates; the other destroys. 
They are in constant opposition, waging war in my mind, soul, and heart."
Borderline
to Babalon

The other woman. No other woman. Where are the other women like me.

“Those women always seemed like a false character in a mythical fairytale, an illusion. 

No hay banda. 

These women were two-dimensional envelopes, and to me, they always seemed unreal, even as a child. 

As you will begin to learn, infant school was a living hell for me. I acclimatized to how different I was from my same-sex peers and felt dejected and lost. 

I always felt displaced and detached from my peers; like an outsider looking in on another species; from five years old I knew the girls that surrounded me, were somehow different.”

—

Borderline to Babalon, 2017

Moonchild Monologues

When my path crosses with another who stirs the ancient psalms and sacred symphonies,

buried under the childhood gravity enclosed by thoracic cages and wingless bird.
I was taken aback. 
I keep these sacred, broken, damaged inner child parts of my soul so well hidden, 
the mere glimpse from another heralds a tsunami of enlightenment.
If I’m healing,
The other trying to refuse confrontation of the pain held away,
Cannot blend.
Nor hide.
Or lie.
You know the other one who pretends.
They hide in the very place you do.
You can perceive the lie, for you once lived one to
Moonchild Monologue

Borderline to Babalon

 “There are days I wake up, the weight of the world resting on my shoulders. 
I can never remember the carefree bliss of childhood. 
Innocence was not a companion of mine. 
Instead, I was bound by the lacerations of rage, trauma, suffering and mental anguish. 
I would be lying if I said that I didn’t still seethe inside because I am not one of those pure and pristine girls with the perfect straight hair and the flawless and unblemished facade.”
—
Borderline to Babalon

Crimson Ribbons

Self harm. Relationships. Alter egos. Eating Disorder. Paranoia.

Rigid control settles the ebb and flow of ache and adolescent angst dancing violently inside her soul.

Her experiment against the hungry male gaze, 

Was to deny her body of its inherent sacred feminine divinity.

Swallowing feminine allure was her first pledge at fighting reality.

The inherent fear of childhood rising in her chest, 

Rigid control settles the ache dancing inside her soul.

Predator.

Pray.

Innocent.

Testosterone.

A slurred trickle of woven manipulations,

The most eloquent and poetic words spun a satin web. 

Her head, 

Full of unrest. 

Her heart, 

Not yet fed.

Her body starving,

To align to a vacant soul. 

Succumbing to sickness 

Never losing control.

Dates, 

Names

Nutrition delegation.

Restriction. Rules. Dietary Regulation. 

Forty-five kilograms away from oblivion.

Her mind was penetrated by malignant vibrations.

Crimson Ribbons