You are a cutter like i once was…but not unto thine own self

for you,

who choose to make tiny rows of scars on my forearms
with your silence

yes, i once was a cutter.
we all KNOW “that baby mama from NYC” has issues.

Am i nothing, if not brutally honest for thousands to see?

In case you have not noticed, I do not give a flying fuck what people think of me.

IN ABSENTIA. 2011. Mixed media and glass on antique notepad. 8×10, private collection.

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Filed under art, diary, imperfection, life, love, sadness, stupidity

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