Autism PDA fii ptsd social justice

Unusual and interesting woman – Dear Sandra

“Unusual and interesting woman”

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


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


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


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,