“Unusual and interesting woman”
Dedication:
For Sandra, Worcestershire.
“she was an unusual and interesting woman”
So this is what she saw
And what is so frightening about a body covered in egg,
fake blood
or gore?
What is so horrifying about a tale that is old,
years of dismay, using art to resolve?
Art to portray the condition that
they ‘say’ they
assess for?
And boom. at their behest
I became a vehement risk
with faded marks on my wrists
they insist
“Mum claims” to have a mental illness,
“unseen” etchings on my chest;
They declare; she’s unhinged at best.
If anything it should be a warning to those who mess
what is likely to come from their gluttonous indulgence
in my personal space, my Professional existence
Difficult subjects
Supported in my
endeavor,
and that is what we get?
arts council england, hippodrome, barbican, lunch, and athey,
my cv reads like a blistering reality of true creativity.
Who has the audacity to look up,
Well? me…
then complain about what they see?
Because the flesh of the body that is unusual and interesting
is so fucking unusual and interesting that it doesn’t sit well with thee,
The person who knows nothing about art, autism or psychology.
And you were offended from 2010
on behalf of what were then, unborn children.
It goes to show, we are not supposed to share the truth,
we are supposed to hide our deepest fears
and suppress our darkest emotions
until,
one day
we become so demented by ourselves
that we prove to be a threat to anyone that comes within arms distance.
I mean, don’t get too close or i’ll fuck you up
Ok?
Or, I’ll keep my gob shut,
freak the heck out and
just hide away,
but that.
Is not.
My style.
Is it?
I can’t and won’t keep shush quiet-miss-diplomatic Ms I didn’t expect you to be so goddamn
two faced
in the first place.
I have to restore faith in my craft,
Recover lost confidence
All because of your ignorance
I will gorge myself on your incompetence
your words will sour in my stomach,
over time,
until they can curdle no longer and i am forced,
by you,
to project that poisonous bile,
up and out in to the world,
so it ends up in front of you
whilst you’re sitting at your desk,
comfortably getting on with your day,
and you might just realise
who you fucked with…
…but you won’t care.
You got it so very very wrong,
You’ve done this before, and you’ll do it again,
and you’ll keep being allowed to get away with it until someone holds you accountable
and that someone is unusual,
that someone is interesting,
apparently.
