Acrylic Paintings By Jason Limon On Instagram

Where I'm From, George Ella Lyon

I used to dream of death

or blazing, blistering pain.

A mark of martyrdom above my

twisted, tortured brain.

But now I sigh and dream of life

and care for all my wounds

No need to be a martyr

I don't need no cocoon

Me: You know how when you were a kid and you’d wish that you’d get sick or injured in a way that would justify why you didn’t live up to your potential?

Everybody, apparently: No?

flush // april 13 2023

First five years spent poor

Beaten, clawed by toxic stress.

A rough start, darling.

I hope Nael knows their poem made me cry

Death Anxiety, or Memento Mori

Is this not all our lives? We spend this moment in the sunlight being afraid, and trying not to be, and trying to make up for the fear when it never leaves. I scramble, try to scratch my name in the Earth before She takes me back. Remember, remember. One day, my name will be spoken for the last time. If I am lucky, it will be by someone who never knew me. ‘Til then, I know what will happen when I die. The ones who loved me will miss me. They will speak my name. Tears will wet their eyes as they do, and some will blink them away like acid rain. I know. Silently they will scream, and rasp against the ache in their throat and the pit in their gut. No matter how ready the dead were to die. No platitudes will dull the scraping of our souls into raw piles of nerves. Nor should it. Remember, remember. Cry. Cry past the ache in your throat. Knees in the dirt; face in the sun and remember. Let your body shake. Let the hurt flow past the scars in your soul. Let it sting. Hold fast to the Earth, lest the grief swallow you whole. Anchored while you weather the storm. And when you emerge, sail on - and ever remember your death.

My shrine to Memento Mori by rococobean

Santa Muerte, Our Lady of Holy Death

Luck I by Joy Sullivan

Empathy

I have laid my hand over the pool of pain

Fingers spread, slow like I'll frighten it

Barely broken the thin skin at the top

Of the water you nearly drowned in

The cold sucked the breath from my chest

And I cried out and stumbled back

Clutching my burning icy hand

I stare at you. How did you survive this?

Does it ever go away? The furious ache?

I'm still gasping for breath.

You shrug. It hasn't so far but you should rest.

I should rest? What about you?

I'm trying. I'm so tired.

Tears gather in your eyes like crescent moons

There isn't enough time in the world.

I lay my new scarred hand on your chest.