eatingroadkill

[eatingroadkill]

ontology professor (adding another grain of sand to my enclosure): is it a pile yet

me (up to my neck in sand, struggling to breathe): I’ll never talk

ontology professor: just tell me when it becomes a pile and this can all be over

[eatingroadkill]

My mother was 17 when she got pregnant with her firstborn, my sister. Sometimes I sit and think, she was a mother, and yet she was so young herself. Her parents, my grandparents, demonized her and made her the villain of my life, when maybe all she needed was love and support from her parents, maybe just a hug, an "It'll be alright." It took me a while to realize my mother was never the villain, she was just a child.

[eatingroadkill]

[eatingroadkill]

Mohja Kahf, “Most Wanted”, Hagar Poems

[eatingroadkill]

I cant help but think all my trauma and baggage has made me unlovable. After all, no one would buy broken dishes.

[eatingroadkill]

I miss the man you used to be, smart and funny and compassionate and loving.

You were the only one I could talk to about video games and nerdy movies and obsure internet lore.

You were a good uncle and an even better father, I thought.

We all believed you for so long. For years we believed you were a good man.

How could you do that to us? To THEM? Your own daughters? Barely old enough to speak and yet they were being asked questions about you no child should have to think about.

Who else did you take pictures of? Who else has seen them? How many people did you sell them to? How long have you been doing this before you were caught?

Now you cut all your hair off and laugh during your trial. How are you laughing at the pain you caused to those children? To your family, your own flesh and blood?

It hurts knowing I’ll never see you again, but it hurts even more knowing you weren’t the man you pretended to be.

[eatingroadkill]

When I was a Christian I believed I saw the world for what it was. Deeply disturbing but with sparks of beauty that God created. I thought I knew the truth, that humanity was a fallen race. That our very broken bodies and minds came from a sin committed ages ago, I even bought into an apologetic argument that human bodies are so prone to disease because we aren't meant to survive long. (An argument I now see as full of holes and problematic)

I thought I saw the world in warm vibrant color, while people without God saw a colorless world of cold logic.

But I was wrong.

I look back at those world views and see a black and white world. A God that was so precise and vague all at the same time, a single mold meant to be imposed on everyone. A world that didn't account for the complexity of reality.

I now look at the idea of a creator molding this world into existence not with awe - but with disdain. You can make this world as pretty as you want too but it doesn't cover up the horrible mistakes. It doesn't cover up the suffering, the pain, all of it pointless.

When I realize every atom in my body comes from exploding stars, that everything I have was fought for in some way, shape, or form. That we are bit a speck of dust existing during a speck of time on the massive scale of everything that exists.

In this headspace I do not have to do mental back-flips to excuse why stuff like diseases exist. But I can see it as a duty to make it better. I can see life as precious, afterall we just have one life. When we are just here for some blip on the radar of our eternal existence its easy to not care. It's easy to only live for the afterparty of immortality while neglecting the life we have now.

Its easy to neglect the planet, problematic social structures, literally anything at all- when this is just 100(ish) years out of infinity.

The concept of the world I was raised to believe in looks so dull now. Like a husk living only on artificial happiness, clinging to a promise of joyful eternity that is supposed to come later instead of the one they have now.

[eatingroadkill]

if you were sexually assaulted as a child and now can’t label your sexuality because you’re not sure how much of your sexual attraction is trauma, hyper sexuality or your actual sexuality CLAP YOUR HANDS 👏👏

[eatingroadkill]

Sometimes I think about my siblings and aunts and uncles and wonder, did he touch them like he touched me? Did they have to live through the same hell that I did? Did they know? If they did, how could they have let that happen to me?

Why did they leave me there to fend for myself if they knew what he was doing? If they experienced what he did?

Maybe I was special, maybe I was the only one he layed his hands on, dug his claws into, gazed at like that.

I hope he didn’t touch anyone else like that, I hope no one else had to endure the same things I did,

but at the same time, why did I have to be the special one?

[eatingroadkill]

i long for the day someone can touch my chest and i dont think of him

i long for the day i can wear a tank top without a bra and i dont think of him

i long for the day someone can run their hands down my back and i dont think of him

i long for the day i feel whole again

i long for the day i fall in love with a woman

i long for the day i can invite him to our gay wedding to prove to him i can be happy without a man

i long for the day i can visit his grave and sit there and cry and yell and not feel obligated to forgive him

i long for the day i feel happy again

soon enough :)

[eatingroadkill]

growing up being taught to love jehovah is like having this extremely powerful imaginary friend who you really believed gave you the strength to deal with family issues and bullies and death and who looked out for you on nights you were afraid of the dark... but then started to get more and more demanding of you as you got older to the point that he was outright asking you to give up your interests and passions and hobbies and dreams and threatening to kill you if you didn’t blindly follow his directions... and suddenly it’s like you don’t even recognize your imaginary friend anymore... suddenly he’s a tyrant who threatened to kill you and make your family forget you all because you dreamed about kissing girls and you aren’t sorry... suddenly your imaginary friend is a misogynist and suddenly he doesn’t care about children being sexually abused and you wonder... what happened to your friend that used to guard you and protect you and listen when you cried in the dark...? then you realize that jehovah didn’t change at all... that jehovah was always like that because jehovah wasn’t real... jehovah was an idea that a group of mostly white old men in new york use to emotionally manipulate and exploit vulnerable people all over the planet... and your family happened to be one of the hundreds caught in the cult for generations... and you realize that you’ve woken up somehow... by sheer chance or a miracle... so even though life gets tough you’ve got to keep living

[eatingroadkill]

…good morning …it’s already baby hours

[eatingroadkill]

you go to the meeting or maybe out preaching and your friend sidles up next to you and says 'did you hear about what so-and-so said?' and you feel intruiged and concerned because so-and-so is your friend and you hope she's okay. so you ask what happened and they tell you she decided to leave Him and you're confused because why would anyone want to leave? and then you realise, oh, she's going to die now. and you beg your parents to let you visit her because you want to save her. she's your friend and you don't want her to die and you're sure you could change her mind.

but your parents say no because she's a bad influence now. they say it's not safe for you to be around her and you can't keep pushing or you'll get in trouble so you just have to accept that your friend is already dead.

and maybe you start thinking about the others kids you know, the neighbors, the classmates. and you realize they're all going to die and the panic beings to set in because you have to save them.

so you try to teach them but none of them listen and maybe some even tell you outright 'i'm not interested in religion.' you lose another friend—though you didn't call them friends, they were just classmates who you talked to everyday and followed around like a lost puppy and maybe even began to love—because they're contaminated by satan and you know they'll corrupt you.

and you think, if He could kill other children, what's stopping Him from killing me? maybe you start having nightmares, maybe every time you close your eyes you see dead children and you think of the babies that He killed before in the stories.

and you tell your parents and they tell you to stop being silly because He doesn't make mistakes. and you say, 'but the kids didn't deserve it' and they tell you to stop criticising Him because He is perfect and benevolent and can do no wrong.

so you try to stop thinking bad thoughts because you don't want Him to kill you but it doesn't work. and you cry but you can't let your parents see, and you stop talking to the kids from the world, though you don't tell your parents that either because you weren't supposed to talk to the outsiders in the first place.

and if you're lucky you still have kids to talk to in the congregation but even that doesn't work out because your parents tell you not to get attached because wolves hide in the flock to lead you astray.

so the ones you're supposed to love might secretly be evil and the ones you must hate—though they don't use the word hate, because we don't hate anyone, no, we just want them to die but we only hate their actions, not the people, never the people—they seem good and happy and they get to watch and read whatever they want and sleep in on weekends.

but they can't be happy because they don't serve Him even though you're miserable and you wish you could have parent like theirs'—but then you feel bad and you know you've made Him angry so you block those thoughts and continue to serve Him.

and every day you go through the motions and you don't even listen most of the time but everyone always says you're such a good kid because you always wake up early and pay attention and raise your hand to comment.

and you wonder if anyone would do anything if you told them why you do those things, if they knew you do it because you're not safe from your parents otherwise, until you see someone else yell and threaten when their kid doesn't want to knock on a door and you realize, oh, this is how everyone is raised.

so you say nothing and you're happy because you have to be and you love Him because you have to and everyday you lie to yourself and you say this is the best life ever and you force yourself to believe it because you know He'll kill you otherwise.

[eatingroadkill]

kiss the busted and bleeding lip of the fallen angel,

spit in the uncalloused hand of absolution

[eatingroadkill]

May I pray? Even when I do not know to whom? Will my words go to some god or will they linger, sickening, turning to rot in the air?

[eatingroadkill]

Antlerlock

When deer battle with their antlers, it sometimes happens that they become locked together so hopelessly that they can't separate. When this happens, usually both of them will die of exhaustion.

However, sometimes one dies and the other is cut free by scavenger animals. He is then forced to carry his opponent's rotting head till his own antlers fall off in the spring.

6x9" ink on paper. Original is for sale for $100