As an infant she cried.
For she thinks she’s dying every time she sleeps.
The world:
Not tiresome yet,
Not something from which she needs
Respite,
Not something to destroy with sockets locked tight.
Years.
Shatter phallic shrapnel,
Lodged and healed.
Stutter shallow on her back
Add guise to the reel.
And she cried
low.
For she thinks of dying every time she wakes.
The world:
Tiresome,
Contended acidic strain.
Pressure moving like blood losing
Against the weight of her veins.
She cries now.
Determined
And thanks the dying every time she dreams
For the world:
Tiresome, but defended
Rain and powder settled in.
And like fuck they’re gonna win.
Jami created eight women, who are all Kill Bill/Aeon Flux type badasses, coupled with historical photographs and other cool bits. I let them speak.
See more of her gorgeous art Here
or her Instagram @JamiGoddessArt
More in this series:
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