i am defined by my work.
my purple arm.
my black latex gloves.
i am defined by $100 an hour & 316lvm surgical stainless steel.
i eat, sleep, breathe this studio.
it is moving to tulsa & i proceed it.

before i was inkjunkys i was a poet.
or so i thought...a writer perhaps?
maybe a hack but i was too in love with words to care.

so to give myself a bit of respite from my increasingly chaotic, crazy, hectic disorganized, discombobulated self, i am posting a piece i wrote & found recently.

wax--to be molded--so he may
imprint his fantasies
...signature of his lips...
erased & rewritten with each kiss.
waiting to be
crystallized, catalyzed, created.
vanishing
every time he looks away

carved in his memory, the pride in his find,
a perfect blank.

she audaciously plays with
the concept of femininity
as he carries her arm.
she imagines in his eyes
love: adoration of her very eyelashes.





so yeah, i am packing my mess to move to tulsa & these sheets fall out of my copy of the little rabbit who wanted red wings {will talk about this in a blog soon as well}
i wrote this when i first began seeing my boyfriend, mel.
he is a tattoo artist, he is my tattoo artist. i had my own place, no roommates, for the 1st time when we began dating. he smokes. at the time he wore a leather jacket. we began seeing each other int he autumn, he would ocme by my place on his way home & kiss me: tasting of cold & tattoo goo & ciggs.
tattoo goo is a very good aftercare product which the inkjunkys staff used religiously & it make a hella lip balm.
that was a lot of years ago.

now what.....

ps: does anyone else here the rocky horror picture show in their heads when they hear the world anticipation? *shrug* just wondered.