AND ... my thoughts run into TRUTH

AND ... I might try my hardest to fictionalize it all

to take it from my soul AND disguise the story as

someone else's

BUT ... my hands are compelled to write the truth AND

there is something behind this spewing forth

of all that exists in me

BUT ... I do not know what it is

AND ... I can only write the TRUTH

AND ... maybe speak in FABRICATIONS and DECEIT

BUT ... I know the truth finds its way to light

               SOMEHOW

DESPITE my haphazard attempts to spin it for

               ACCEPTANCE

SO ... I will say this:

My life story can only be told in bits

             AND pieces

DISSECTED         INTERSECTED    ANALYZED   and

RE-REFLECTED UPON

AND sewn back up together - from the shattered pieces

                which were my

HEART and SOUL and MEMORY

and I am, have only ever been, upon this earth

             a short, short time

BUT ... I know so many things I can't explain

AND ... I know some days it seems as if I'm crazy

BUT ... appearance is far, far from reality

I cannot explain my lucidity and exact recollections

IN photographic detail

DESPITE the knowledge that they are no my memories

IN SPITE of being told that I cannot possibly know

AND ... yet - always understood

AND ... if I ever thought differently

                I don't recall

BECAUSE I've never really changed at all

AND ... if I were truly crazy I don't think

I could analytically reflect upon it all

BUT I live my life determined and conscious

AND know that I surround myself with beautiful and powerful

OBJECTS and IMAGES which bring me JOY and POWER

                            and PROTECTION

AND hope AND friendship AND everything that I am - so that

I can look around AND know myself each day anew

AND I am aware of my own attempts to ESCAPE

                   into other people

AND places BECAUSE they feel like parts of me

AND I know all the things that you might say

BUT I only dance now lightly through other people

AND always follow the path which leads back to me

And I need to be alone - when it isn't what I want
AND I could pretend that you don't smother me
BUT you do
AND I may run away from many things
BUT never myself
AND now that I am grown I say
I can reflect upon and write about the secret pains
which haunted me
AND lurked within my heart
AND which I could talk around like bullshit
BUT talk is cheap AND it is only truth if I
write it down for you to see
AND I might like to think I am above it all
BUT I am not saintly and while I am not angry
vengeful or full of accusations
I AND I alone
must own my pain
AND it is not EXAGGERATION
DELUSION
OR
Some damn cry for attention
AND I do not write to expose you
OR compel guilt
BUT simply because
I must write for myself
AND nowadays it's nothing to do with
YOU at all
not really
AND you might say MY truths hurt you
and make you look bad
OR that they are biased, overblown
and not quite accurate
BUT they are not general histories of
"concrete facts"
but truths
which are subjective
AND I cannot express regret if you
are ashamed of my imperfectness
and refusal to be ashamed of myself
or clothe myself in anything but
RAW and HONEST truth
without coverings
AND I am me
AND all my life is now my own
AND you were there
BUT the truth of me
does not rely upon agreement
as to what constitutes me
AND not because we didn't try
BUT I could not ever articulately
explain in speech
what it felt like to be me
could not talk at all
Not from a desire for secrecy or deceit
But because my voice was silenced
AND no matter how hard I try
OR how intelligent I am
it all gets jumbled up
in conflicting sentences
which are all so crystal clear to me
BUT cannot make a direct line from
my MIND and HEART and SOUL
to my mouth
without breaking and jumbling together
criss-crossing
and cutting themselves upon the lines
where heart and soul and mind
intersect
and weave together
and bits of meaning fall into the gaps
and nothing I say will ever
be as truthful
as the words upon the page
which write themselves
and I do not put any conscious thought
into what pours out of me
and even close my eyes
and mind to thought
but still the thoughts emerge:

That I am here
because I always knew myself
and because some angel
watched over me and said
This one needs to be stronger
and is meant to help the rest
for I was given friendship, love and understanding
in return for all I lost
AND another heart which knows me
inside-out and where I come from
AND always speaks the truth
and we were always writing letters
full of nothing but truth
AND I could never ever lie to you
AND maybe it is a gift or a curse
and no matter what
I am overflowing with the capacity
to love and care
and offer friendship
where it is needed
in ways it seems that
many people cannot
AND though they tell me DON"T
I love humanity in all its PAIN and JOY
AND every corruption
is not beyond my comprehension
because I don't judge
For I have been pelted with stones
- until I was bruised, scarred,
battered and BROKEN -
cast from hands
not qualified to throw them

ily, 2002