Feeling worthless, valueless.

I have lost my hands

I have lost my eyes

I have two teeth left

I am feeling useless.

I am in the corner.

What can I do?

I am in the dark.

What can I do?

You can smoke a joint and remember.

So, as you see, I have begun writing poems about Marawana.
This might mean that the transformation may have already taken place.

How do you know when you have crossed the line between smoking pot and becoming a pot-head?

For me it was when I was in Cape Town smoking pot every day and reading only books that were about pot.

Now i know that i have crossed the line because i am writing poetry about pot.

Oh, boy i like this.

This is good man.

why did it take so long for the medicine woman to give it to me???

a very smart doctor informed me that marawana works for pain.

That is a good doctor!

Cute too. And black. I have always had a very soft spot for black men. They come even before the long-haired men.

A good-looking young black doctor. I asked him if he was a nurse. He just looked too sweet to be a doctor. And a little too opened minded.

My last pain-doctor just did not get it. He diagnosed me with pudendal neuralgia. I ideolized him. He undermedicated me to a very dangerous degree.

They don't get it. It is like the pain-scale they have in their office that makes me want to scream.
It is dangerous when pain-doctors don't get it.

My pain-doctor today gets pain. She gets it. Not that she can just heal it. But she doesn't waste any time. She has suggestions and options.

My x-pain doctor just told me and my family that one day i will just live with the pain and that within a year i will just be back into life.

He didn't understand that I was going to end my life because the pain was unbearable.

He was stubborn too, refused to let me try a narcotic. He said that narcotics are a dark alleyway and that he was not gonna put me on that road.

Dood,

dood, you cannot send someone who is dying from pain  DYING FROM PAIN ,,,, you can die from pain...

to a room with a very sweet and kind occupational therapist who talks to me about what things i would like to do more of in my life.

 I am bawling from the pain,

bawling because i cannot do the things that i want to do

not because i don't want to,  not because my foot has to get taught how to walk again

but because i am IN SO MUCH PAIN!!!!!!!

the lack of understanding of pain makes us feel only more hopeless

we walk around from doctor to doctor only to get quizzical looks

What, do you think that i am making this up?

You think that i am crazy?

That i am fantasizing the pain??

Damn it,

It has to come from us

We have to make it be heard

Why?

Don't waste your time asking why

cuz you are not going to get an answer

Part of it is the fact that sex was considered shameful, the meaning of the word PUDENDAL is SHAME. So sex is shameful and if we enjoy it we are going to got to hell and Lord knows what else. Part of it is that we internalized this shame and were unable to talk about our vaginas. Part of it is that if we talked about our vaginas we were probably considered....

Part of it is clearly the opression of women, and the control that men had and to this day have over the female body. Look at female circumsicion, look at rape, look at domestic violence, incest... wherever you want to, if you really want to, you will see it.... it is everywhere, it is rampant, it is the norm, it is more then average. India, Africa, the Arab countries and yes, all over the modern world.

Here it is a bit more hidden. It is a bit more controlled.

Here we can talk about vaginas. We can enjoy sex. Our sexual organs aren't torn out of our bodies by our own mothers. Here we arent exchanged for cattle or sold to marriage at the age of 12, or sold to prostitution at the age of 8.

I think that it is time

I think that it is our responsibility

I think that we are the ones that know

And it is true, it is hard to fight when you are sick

But there are ways, we can help eachother, slowly,

I believe cuz if i did not believe then i would not be alive today

And S/he just aint ready to take me yet.

S/he wants to visit my garden.

And she wants to teach me how to play with stones.

And she wants to smoke pot (I am telling you, i am becoming a pot-head.)

And she, me , the goddess, the marawana, whatever you wanna call it wants to live

But Damn, it is hard to live with pain


(Hey Allie, thanks for telling me that you like the stream-of consciousness blogs the most. Kind-of like the chain/earing?? that you liked.)

Some people like it clean. They like it simple. They want it real.
Man, that is the kind-of woman that i want in my army.

Goodnight girls