Blackened Hues is a photography series caressed with language.
Through sensual introspection induced by my Womanhood and emotional saturated tones,
my Black Skin rest at the focal point in order for the viewer to enter their own
introspective journey of emotional attachments
aroused by my performance of the Hues
Through sensual introspection induced by my Womanhood and emotional saturated tones,
my Black Skin rest at the focal point in order for the viewer to enter their own
introspective journey of emotional attachments
aroused by my performance of the Hues
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Backseat Blues
Why have my ears stored the sounds of my abusers like drives Periodically downloading these tonal vibrations From the cloud My soul lets me know that This wound still has some healing to do When my mind is left to its own devices I revisit back seats Where my head is buried Trying to pray away Tonal octave Sounds of my past Crying out for freedom As I watch my dream drives be Close to touch but too far Away for me to grasp I sit there remaining in the back seat With my past as it does its best to corrupt my future My twin– a buffer, an uncrossed boarder, a hedge of protection In my dreams Gives to me Space As I sat there contemplating What to do as I heard His words, “Oh shit” Moaned in and out of deep slowed breaths In the right seat… My seat. My seat since birth The right side It gave me a clear view of the vessel(s) Given the responsibility to protect me Their precious cargo Yet here I was Displaced Misplaced Under siege With my body Still Looking For affirmations while my mind repeatedly screamed Sense into my flesh A ripped seat belt was the gift he gave to me Speeding down Route 17 With his prescence He taunted my mind As HE can see I am trying to get free But freedom inside of a moving car looks like A seatbelt Broken Ready to launch you Through the windshield To your death Freedom looks like losing your mind To escape to places you’d never be paid enough to go back to Freedom looks like squinched eyes, tucked heads and shaking bodies As you attempt to hide the body that lured this predator in Freedom looks like an eruption of my soul To say no more and end with a fist to the cheek of my abuser |
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Eternally Internal My Tears run like streams to infinity pools, saturated with droplets from the past. Shedding the same skin I look at my scales as ghost like baggage, too heavy to grasp yet too enormous to pass. Why must I heal my heart from the hate I fight as I fall victim of being erased. My fate such pains seems endless the fire just waiting to consume the kindred. Seems death by fire is inevitable with loathing of the impenetrable as my constant war to be one. Hearts aren't meant to beat at this pace but what more can be done when your starting zone is behind the entire race. Tone Death
Beating My heart sounds out of tune. Rewiring my thoughts yet the frequencies are off. Triggered by what was and what isn't. My heart beats out of rhythm trying to catch the beat yet missing the 2 +3 I stand still Still looking for an impetuous to break my silence Finding nothing but tone deaf death in my heart still in silence. |
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