Private Writings: Chapter #54 – I Feel Fine

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #54 – I Feel Fine
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by NAME OF ARTIST
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 25th March 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #54 — I Feel Fine

Tuesday 16th September 2008

Dear Annie,

They won’t let me see you while I’m in this place. The doors may not be locked but no one is going to allow me to leave. I never wanted to be inside a place where they watch every minute detail of what I do. Why didn’t she let me die? Why did Jamie call for help. She should have let me die. How did she know I was in trouble? I remember sending you a letter for her. Oh, right, I sent her the poem I wrote about love. I sent a preface to the poem I wrote for her. What an idiot. I was talking about suicide. Never said I was going to do it. Even if I did take all my stash of Klonopin mixed with some brandy. I was just starting to fall asleep for good. Heading into a peaceful sleep. No more thoughts. No more feelings. No more pain. No more people pretending to love me and then fucking me. Abandoning me. I am sick of it. Let them all go fuck themselves.

I want you to see the note and poem I sent to Jamie. Would it make you get so alarmed you call in the cops and medics. Between Jamie pulling me to my feet and walking me around before the emergency crew arrived. Jamie even walked me into a ice cold shower. That freaked my body out. I think I went into a seizure or something that felt like I was way out of control. I was awake bearly, but I wasn’t coherent. Nothing was making any sense at that moment. My eyes couldn’t focus at all.

Enter the women in their scrubs with their equipment. They were plugging me in to so many tubes. We were off to the hospital in no time. Pumping stomachs. Needles into tubes going into my body. They have a shrink talk to me. I was too out of it to make sense out of what she said. She did say she was going to admit me into the psyche ward for observation. That freaked me out. I demanded they contact my partner Scottie Andrews. She had power of attorney. I wasn’t going to be going upstairs.

Scottie arrived. Jamie had tracked her down and explained what had happened. She was upset with me but more concerned than angry. Scottie talked. I tried to listen. What I remember of our conversation is, our lawyer Michael was working on finding me a place at the Redcliff Psychiatric Institute. Being here is like being at a Country Club. Here I am, in this fall back to “David and Lisa” and “Lilith.” A place of splendor with Dr. Virginia MacKinnon, a great psychiatrist, for me to talk to.  She isn’t you. I’d rather be talking to you. But I am giving her a chance. I just am so confused by all that is happening. Why did I take all those pills? Why can’t I get away from people who want to hurt me? Why does it seem that I trust all the wrong kind of people who want to abuse me?

I want you to see what I wrote to Jamie that night. It might give you a sense of where I am at this moment. Maybe it’s telling, maybe not. I know I am going to write you as often as they allow me to. I wish I could call you or text you but they won’t let me have my cell phone or any of my techno gadgets. No laptops. No Tablets. No Cell Phones. No communication with the outside. With one exception, I am allowed to write to you. And I know you can’t write to me. They don’t want any outside influences.

Here is the note and poem I wrote to Jamie. I love her. I love Scottie. I love Alison. Please help them understand what I’ve done. I haven’t stopped feeling like killing myself. I still want to die. The depression has cut me off from feeling alive. I try to write poems. They won’t let me have my medical marijuana. That is killing me. It was the only thing that kept me balanced when I was balanced. My bipolar is out of control.

Lets forget about that. They won’t change their minds. MJ not allowed in here. No exceptions. This is going to make me feel more like I am falling apart than ever. I am sorry I let you down Annie. Trying to kill myself. It was stupid. The pain had a hold on me. It was crushing me. I had to let go. My estate was all settled and in good order. Everyone I wanted to be sure was taken care of was well planned out in my Will. Michael is a great lawyer.

I am putting it off. Here is what I wrote to Jamie. Keep in mind I was thinking of you in the note but I wanted Jamie to be the one to receive the note. To help her understand why I was doing what I did:

“I am insecure & uncertain about what is ok in terms of times & frequency of what is acceptable. I feel I could make a mistake & not even know it. It is causing the development of a darkness of confusion.”

“I love Jamie.  I spent the day almost intentionally focusing my attention on anything but thinking & feeling Jamie’s presence. I am afraid of the level of intensity between Jamie & I. With almost certainty, I feel Jamie & I are experiencing equal levels of intense emotions toward the other.”

“I want to hold her. I want to know what it feels like to wrap my arms around her. And to feel her body melting into mine. She would feel soft to hold. I want to lie down beside Jamie. To pull our bodies as close together as possible. And we would fall asleep with our lips near the others. Close enough to feel her warm breath caressing my face with the delicacy of her breathing.”

“I love her. I want to feel her spirit enter inside of me with warm loving energy. If I told her these feelings, I am not certain what her reaction would be. What I would like is for Jamie to tell me she feels the exact same way about me as I feel about her. We love each other deeply, as it is possible to love someone else who moves us into the highest spiritual level possible. I Love Her Now & Always & Forever. She is my soul spirit connection. I just want to dream about her.”

A poem of Haiku for J.S.

Love you bring to me
Before the sun can shine I
Dream of you with me

Before me you stand
My eyes look deep inside you
Two souls joined as one

You live in my mind
Your love sleeps inside my heart
Our lips want to speak

Love me forever
I am your soul protector
Loving you always

(c) mandy two-zero-zero-eight

I need Jamie. Her presence in my life fills up my fantasy world with warm and pleasurable sensations. When I think of her I can make up any feeling I want to experience. She is real inside for me. It may not be a sane reality but how close is sanity to madness and fantasies to reality. If you want them to happen you find a way to manifest your dreams. Does it hurt to think of someone in a dream? Make them be for you what you need. Does that make me insane for wanting a dream that once was to now be real again.

It pains me to want to love and not be able to get my body to be able to express those feelings in a real situation. When you are so careful, a nightmare enters your world and destroys it by crushing my dreams by overwhelming with the reality of my childhood by doing now what was a constant then. When she raped me, she stole away the last of my innocence. I guarded it and thought I was safe with all the protection I had surrounding me. But she still broke through and took everything that was left.

I just want to feel love. The kind of love I felt with my grandmother. I am tired. I will write more about the only person who ever loved me without wanting something in return. The energy of love I felt with my grandmother was magical and mystical. It filled me up and protected me from the abusers destroying me. She placed a shield that surrounded me. It kept their handling of my flesh from penetrating into my soul and darkening my spirit from the light. The light stayed alive inside me because grandmother has always protected me. I believe she is one of my guardian angels and I think and feel Tosh is another of those who protect me.

That’s all I can write for now. Until next week.

“Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.”

So, until I see you, I end with my favorite quote from the film “Brief Sacrifice.”

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Love Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

The embrace  klimt  sm

The Embrace – Artist Klimpt

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

scary purple flower

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Moments #54 : No Restrictions

private moments in paintings & poetry
Private Moments #54: No Restrictions
Poem by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Post Created 10th March 2014
Posted On Monday 24th March 2014
PRIVATE MOMENTS: PAINTINGS & POETRY

Private Writings: Chapter #54 — I Feel Fine

The Brain Processing Madness (c) JkM 2008

The Brain Processing Madness (c) JkM 2008

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

hands reaching out into rain

No Restrictions
Poem by Madison Taylor
16th September 2008

Play word games backwards
No restrictions has madness
Keen minds dividing

© Madison Taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Maze

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p “Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

*     *      *      *      *      *      *

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”
— JkM the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

A Writer’s Diary: Virginia Woolf — Part #2

a writer's diary
Virginia Woolf — Part #2
Excerpts from Virginia Woolf
Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created DATE 2014
Posted Sunday 9th March 2014
A WRITER’S DIARY

Virginia Woolf 1

Virginia Woolf

A Writer’s Diary 
Virginia Woolf – Part #2

Leonard Woolf
Virginia’s husband
Writes
In the introduction
To
A Writer’s Diary

The diary is too personal
To be published as a whole
During the lifetime
Of many people
Referred to in it.

It is
I think
Nearly always a mistake
To publish extracts
From diaries or letters

Particularly
If the omissions
Have to be made
In order to protect
The feelings
Or reputations
Of the living.

The omissions
Almost always distort
Or conceal
The true character
Of the diarist
Or letter-writer

And produce
Spiritually
What an Academy picture
Does materially

Smoothing out
The wrinkles
Warts
Frowns
And asperities.

At the best
And even unexpurgated
Diaries give a distorted
Or one-sided portrait
Of the writer

Because

As Virginia Woolf
Herself remarks

Somewhere
In these diaries

One gets
Into the habit
Of recording
One particular
Kind of mood

Irritation
Or misery,
Say

And of not
Writing one’s diary
When one is feeling
The opposite.

The portrait is
Therefore
From the start
Unbalanced

And
If someone
Then deliberately
Removes
Another characteristic

It may well
Become
A mere
Caricature.

— Leonard Woolf
[Virginia's Husband]

Virginia Woolf's Monk's House Garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

virginia woolf 3

Virginia Woolf

Erik Satie: Gnossienne No. 1, 2, 3

No One Expects…

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
No One Expects…
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Created on 29th January 2014
Posted on Saturday 22nd February 2014
POETRY IN TONE

White Rabbit – Jefferson Airplane

In the universe,
There are things that are known
And things that are unknown,
And in between there are doors.
-— William Blake

No One Expects…
By Jennifer Kiley
29th January 2014

Serious moments
Coercion in practice
Pulling me closer
Building my trust
Hearts crushing
Veins crashing
Got to move on now

Doors slamming shut
You closed me out
Cold is your blood
Left me lying there
Sinking in the cold
Wet mud
The quicksand
With no gravity

No one expects love
To rust
To turn in to
Distrust
Must I think of you?
Everywhere I look
You haunt me there
You stare
With blank eyes
You don’t care

A mirage is seen
A message echoing
Inside a recording
Shadows following
Words whispering
Sounds out loud

Are you there?
Did you ever care?
Were you visiting?
And just resisting
Trying emotions
Wrestling with honesty?

Can’t bear your shadow
Near me
Testing me
Trying to steal
Enticing away
Those I love

Sending her
To stalk me
To break me down
Find what’s touching off
Thoughts inside my brain

Your vibration
Your excitation
Has it been easy
Trying to destroy me
You so easily
Implore me

What can you find?
What’s left?
In my mind
The rest is crazy
Gone mad
You made me

Like you had
Gone mad
Only bad
It’s sad
What was your destiny?

To be small
Nothing big enough
At all
You won’t reach those heights
You’ll never get there
And I don’t care

Is it meant
for me instead?
Believing
Isn’t wrong
Dreaming

Thoughts working
Their way in the mind
Thinking alone
For the self

Dreaming the dream
Is a gift to the soul
For giving life

© JkM 2014

Eye of Tigyr Burning Bright - Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2014

Eye of Tigyr Burning Bright – Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2014

Private Writings: Chapter #49 – Got To Get You Into My Life

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #49 – Got To Get You Into My Life

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Gustav Klimpt – The Embrace
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 18th February 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.

ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell,
psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
storytelling using letters, dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, scripts, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis,
inspirations, reflective comments, inner/outer workings
mind, soul, body, emotions, bipolar, mentally creative, interesting,
brain misfiring; abuse, crashes, near drownings,
hallucinations, heightened sexuality, time warps,
finding answers, unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, discover self, soul, eternal serenity, bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #49 – Got To Get You Into My Life

Tuesday 12th August 2008

Dear Annie,

Before I get into what I want to write specifically, I wanted to bring up Alison Porter. Scottie and my adopted daughter. Since she returned from Yale Acting School, she has been working at our studio, doing odd jobs. Watching Scottie and I work. Well, it hasn’t been officially announced. Alison is going to be in our next film. I wrote a screenplay for her. She will be starring opposite someone very special to me.

This is where the story begins and where the letter I want to write has started. Just before my grandmother died she encouraged me to find someone outside of the family with whom I could look up to for guidance. There wasn’t anybody. My grandmother knew of my aspirations for wanting to write film scripts and to be part of making films. There was an actress my grandmother felt was incredible and she wanted me to meet her. My grandmother knew her. She knew everyone or they knew her. One of the wealthiest women in the country. She became the person who took over emotionally when my grandmother died. I can’t explain my feelings. My grandmother was my world. When she died I went a bit mad. The actress my grandmother introduced me to, one day called me. We talked and talked about everything. Her call was to tell me she was here for me. Whenever I needed or wanted to contact her, she gave me her contact information for anywhere she might be reached. It didn’t take long to grow close. I believe I fell in love with her. The woman I loved as an actor and now I love as my closest friend ever. I never saw this friendship coming. Or that we would ever meet.

I think it made it easier when I met Scottie and after college we both got inside the film world. Scottie really liked my actor friend right away. She approves of her relationship with me and the feeling is mutual on the other end. She was married to a man, a director, who loved her madly and she loved him equally as strong. He encouraged our friendship. The feelings are very special between us. I loved her when I was growing up and still feel the same strength of feeling I’ve always felt toward her. When I see her photographs or hear her voice I become transfixed and excited. I belong to an online group who feel the same way.

When I was a kid she was a child star and part of my fantasy world. I thought I would meet her brother Chris some day and marry him. Then we’d be family. I was so absorbed with her. We talked on the phone when I was a teenager. This was before my grandmother introduced us over the phone. My grandmother told me great stories about her. First, she moved here from England when she was pretty little. She acted on the stage starting really young. She trained at The Actors Studio. Her first performance on Broadway was in Tennessee Williams’ The Glass Menagerie. I saw that play when I was 12. It was confusing to me at the time. I felt like the girl in the play. Everything I owned was broken including myself.

Let’s be less serious. One day, I called the studio where she was working, she was gone for the day. I told them it was important that I reach her and that I was a friend of her therapist, would they please give me her number. The person gave it to me without question. Of course, I knew her therapist, my grandmother told me they saw the same Psychoanalyst, so I used the name. I’m sure it’s why the person at the studio felt so free in giving me her number. Anyway I called her. I had witnesses. Her assistant answered the phone. I got up the courage and asked to speak to her.

She said, “Just a moment please.

Shortly, she came to the phone. She would have been about 18 yrs old then. I was only 3 years younger. We chatted for what seemed like a long time. She was wonderful. We both enjoyed the conversation. Before we said goodbye, I told her about my grandmother and asked if we could talk again some time. I knew it was a huge risk, an imposition but she so enjoyed our talk, and agreed. We exchanged our information. I had her number, so she wanted mine and my mailing address too. She gave me hers, also. Then we hung up our phones.

I proceeded to faint. It was one of the highest moments of my life. Everyone who knew me knew how I felt about her. They all thought I was mental and weird. I didn’t care. My grandmother was right about her. I loved them both. Her movies were seen multiple times by me. When I say multiple I mean over 20 times while in the theatres and more times when they hit DVD. She has been in Oscar winning films for Best Film and she has won Best Actress once and nominated several times. We have most of her movies in our collection except the ones that are not available.

After my grandmother died, I became lost, a touch mad. She called one day shortly after the funeral. What she said to me has had such a profound effect on my life since that day. We have kept up our friendship ever since. We chat everyday now. I leave messages for her and next day there would be an answer back. And on our cells, we both love to text, so we do that all of the time. It drives Scottie nuts.

It is great to have a friend I feel I can trust with telling her anything. I never told you her name. I will some day. For now let us refer to her as Lady Chablis. I love her so much that I want her in my life forever.

She disappeared a few years ago. Just for awhile. Her incredible husband died. She went to France to heal but will never forget him. I received a letter from her in today’s mail. She is on her way back to the states and she is suppose to arrive today in L.A. I texted her right away. She got back to me and we made plans to meet. Later today. We have never met in person. It’s not that unusual for me. I live online or at the studio. I will write the rest of this letter after I get back from spending time with her. I am so excited and enormously overwhelmed. It just takes my breath away. What will we talk about? I know don’t be silly.

Later. Got to get ready. You will hear all about it when I return.

How wild was that. I am in love with her. When we hugged for the first time, I got lost in her arms. It didn’t feel like she wanted to let go either. We talked like we had been together in person for years. Everything between us was natural. Lady Chablis is my best friend. She really is my best friend. Scottie will understand if I have something special with Lady Chablis. Scottie knows I love her beyond time. Lady Chablis is someone so special only my grandmother ever brought these feelings out in me. Now I feel them for L.C. … She is forever just like my grandmother. It made for the most perfect day ever.

That’s all for now.

“Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.”

So, until I see you, I end with my favorite quote from the film Brief Sacrifice.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Love Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

Gustav Klimt The Embrace

Gustav Klimt The Embrace

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Orchid_flower 5 blue dk blue 4 lady blue

Orchid Blue

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own imaginations”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bg

Medical Marijuana MMJ

Private Moments #48: Never Home Again

Editor’s Corner finished its course last week on Monday 3rd February. It is available as a resource in an archive. Click HERE to go to the Editor’s Corner Archive on Shawn MacKenzie’s MacKenzie’s Dragonsnest. In the Editor’s Corner’s spot, starting today, I am using Monday to present the Poem, Painting and Music that accompany my weekly Chapter from Private Writings, Posted on Tuesdays on ‘the secret keeper.’ Hope you enjoy both. The Archives for Past Chapters are just above on the Page ‘PRIVATE WRITINGS ARCHIVE.’ JkM the secret keeper

private moments in paintings & poetry
Never Home Again
Private Moments: #48
Painting by Jk McCormack
Poem by Jennifer Kiley
Post Created 19th January 2014
Posted On Monday 10th February 2014
PRIVATE MOMENTS: PAINTINGS & POETRY
Private Writings: Chapter #48 — Where You Once Belonged

Streaking - Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2007

Streaking – Artist Madison Taylor (c) madison taylor 2007

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

hands reaching out into rain

Flashing Sparks
Poem by Madison Taylor
5th August 2008

Flashing sparks
In lost memories
Quickening dreams
Following sightings
Of lost time

Hands touching flesh
Feelings wash over
The body outside
Of consciousness
Floating endlessly

Ceilings found close
Eyes looking down
Outside is cold
Uncovered frame
Asleep alone

One exception
No one has a face
Is with the child
Dreaming nightmares
Inside dark shadows

Hovering above
Watching evil
Action taken
To know the inside
Entry forced

Within sounds
Movement starting
Sensations building
Complications unknown
Dying within

Nights stolen
Anticipation
Safety waiting
Music playing
Retrieving silence

Sparks flashing
Editing thoughts
Organizing order
Lighting truth
Chasing out death

© madison taylor 2007

Maze

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer
into the private moments
of our imaginative lives.”
— JkM the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

Private Writings: Chapter #44 — Secrets and Signs

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #44 — Secrets and Signs

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 21st January 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.

ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell,
psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
storytelling using letters, dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, scripts, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis,
inspirations, reflective comments, inner/outer workings
mind, soul, body, emotions, bipolar, mentally creative, interesting,
brain misfiring; abuse, crashes, near drownings,
hallucinations, heightened sexuality, time warps,
finding answers, unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, discover self, soul, eternal serenity, bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #44 — Secrets and Signs

Tuesday 15th July 2008

Dear Annie,

I want to talk about my feelings for you. It never seems convenient for me to be open with you. What I feel, is something I don’t understand. No one ever taught me what love is. Love has been mixed up inside my head. It makes me feel I am bad for feeling love.

The truth. I was abused growing up. My family’s incest was sexual, sadistic and emotional abuse. Their white painted mansion was the playground for their sinder girl. Don’t know respect. She needs to learn she is nothing. A place I was the center of the abuse. That’s what I called home. I didn’t think of it that way. Not a place of love and nurturing for me. Every horrible experience I felt as a child happened in that place of horror. It wasn’t safe anywhere inside that house. Taking walks in the woods was dangerous. Our grounds were extensive. Someone seemed always to be watching me. Eventually they always found me. And I would be alone and vulnerable.

My father used me to get his friends to do him favors. I was their reward. They just took me away. One man, I remember someone calling him something official. Held a government position, and he was a child molester and rapist. That was dangerous. One of the times I was alone with him. He had started touching me. His hand felt like needles were piercing my skin. I wanted him to stop. My hand pushed his away. We even spoke out loud. “Please don’t touch me or I will tell.” A thought I had tried before without the threat of telling. Telling made it more dangerous. This brought on convincing threats of, “I’ll kill your family if you say a word.” His words were not a lie. He showed me by trying to kill me in that very moment. He stopped himself before he went to far but his eyes told me, he would kill them, and probably me too. No, he would definitely have me killed.

What could I do. Keep silent. No one ever talked about it. It felt like I was alone. No one else. It wasn’t happening to anyone else. They would feel I was worthless and contaminated. No one would care about me. No one does now. I will just leave everyone out of this. I am too embarrassed to say a word. Too ashamed.

I am living surrounded by abusers or the abused? Yes, I had another sibling who did not escape. He is locked up and catatonic now. The only time he is not catatonic is when all he can do is scream my name out that he wants to kill me. I am his betrayer. No idea why he thinks I betrayed him. All my life I have tried to protect him. It was all a secret. One day he blurted out, our oldest brother fucked him when he was little. I was fragile when he told me this. It made me freak out.

I turned to a female friend I had a crush on. She tried to help. But she had depressing news, to me it was. Why in that moment? Her boyfriend proposed to her. They were going to get married right away. It meant her moving away. I was struck by the deepest depression. She did move away after the wedding. Gone. I lost her. She was my first friend. She was the first person I told about the abuse. Not the whole nightmare. Just I had been abused. No one can handle the while thing. I can’t even handle it. Overload.

My friend was gone. I had no more focus. She kept me alive by being my friend. I loved her. She was the only person I could love. I thought she loved me enough to want to stay in my life. But she didn’t. My depression made me believe everything was over. I was despondent. I lost all reason to live. There was no one left to love. It was when I thought about my bottle of pills.

I sat on the edge of my bed. Taking the open bottle of pills, I poured out the content, a handful at a time. The darkness was pulling me deeper inside of it. The music was playing softly. Soon I would be asleep forever. Would my friend miss me if I were dead. The letter I wrote to her was about love. In the letter I wrote to my mother, I told her she finally got what she wanted. Me. Dead.

My head felt heavy as I lay down at the foot of my bed. All the pills were gone. Sleep felt like it was pulling me in. My mind was filled with the friend I loved. We were only teenagers. Who ends their life so early? Life was destroying me. Being alive without her was unthinkable, to painful, impossible. It was almost over. I was nearing the end of pain.

As you can see I am writing to you now. It was difficult but somehow I stopped the process from concluding. No one helped me back from that edge. I saved myself alone. No one ever knew. Just one more secret. My suicide attempt gave me the courage to seek out professional help. It was right after that night. I live with the thoughts of suicide too frequently. It runs through my mind and my life like a shadow of temptation. More the thinking about it then the doing now.

Lets change this up and take it to a totally different place. Back to my feelings about love. I know you know what love is. You make me feel it whenever I am around you. The words you say to me. I feel your love. No one has ever been as kind to me as you. What is important is I don’t know what I would do without you if you ever disappeared. It would crush me inside. I would want to die.

I see the words I use and wonder whether I can trust you not to be afraid of my feelings of love. If I told you I love you, would it make you want to run away? I fear the worse.

If you really knew what goes on inside of me, it’s the sound of confusion. Being bipolar for a long time has messed with my life. Awhile ago, I had a therapist and psychiatrist diagnose me with DID. It was a fucked up diagnosis I lived with for years. She even wanted me to name my alters and describe their characteristics. It was a curious perspective from which to think about myself. I really did split apart with the diagnosis. Was it thinking I had DID that caused the transformation? Or did I always have alters and worked through the phases and went through integration. I am not at all sure.

Sybill, the film with Sally Fields and Joanne Woodward, made me want her doctor. Being held and believed. To feel her arms around me and her eyes comforting me. This leads me to the truth. Truth is important to me. I don’t lie. There’s no sense to it. Simply put, I want you, Annie. To be like her doctor. If I could return to being a little girl again, with you. You could be the person who cared for me. It would feel more perfect then I could expect. It would make the world right for me. Is it possible for you to love me?

I better stop now. There is much more but I will save it for the next letter. Right now I am worried what I have already asked you in this letter. Is it going to make you feel angry or uncomfortable, or is it going to make you go away? Will you go away? Please don’t. I’m feeling a strong urge not to show you this letter. Maybe if I express myself in a poem and paint what I feel instead. It is more abstract. It may make more sense. Being understood is an obsession.

“Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.”

So, until I see you, I end with my favorite quote from the film Brief Sacrifice.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Loving You Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

Bejin - Artist David Agenjo

Bejin – Artist David Agenjo

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

Bouquet of Roses and other Flowers - Artist Henri Fantin Latour

Bouquet of Roses and other Flowers – Artist Henri Fantin Latour

rain in garden gif

Shattered Love
By Madison Taylor
8th July 2008
Narrative Haiku

Shattered love breaks hearts
Are bleeding out on the ground
Why do I not cry?

Feelings have been crushed
Inside pain reflects harming
Take your hands off me

Skin feels bruises swell
Carving time on flesh burning
Memories remain

Giving birth no love
Start with hate never caring
Nurture not given

Meet an attraction
Is it love or sexual
Healing the inside

Touching with lightness
Need a gentle hand soothing
Trust is taming wild

One stroke of the hand
Is enough to begin love
Learning soft teaching

© madison taylor 2008

Illuminating Shadows - Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2008

Illuminating Shadows – Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2007

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Anais Nin Speaking with Henry Miller – Part Four

a writer's word 1 - day title sunday
Anais Nin Speaking with Henry Miller – Part Four
Created by Jk the secret keeper
Illustrations by j. kiley
Created 11th January 2014
Posted Sunday 19th January 2014
A WRITER’S WORD

anais-nin photo

Anais Nin

Anais Nin
Speaking with Henry Miller
Part Four

“No,
I hate
her.”

“You
hate
her?”

“Yes,
I hate
her,”

Henry says,
“because
I see
by your
notes

that we are
her dupes,

that you
are duped,

that there
is a
pernicious,
destructive
direction
to her
lies.

Insidiously,
they are
meant
to deform
me
in
your eyes.

If June
returns,

she will
poison us
against
each other.

I
fear
that.”

“There is
a friendship
between us,
Henry,

which is
not possible
for June
to understand.”

“For that
she will
hate us,

and she
will combat
us
with her
own tools.”

“What can
she use
against
our
understanding
of each other?”

“Lies,”
said Henry.

Boreas - Artist John William Waterhouse

Boreas – Artist John William Waterhouse

Anais Nin Speaking with Henry Miller – Part Three

a writer's word - day title sunday
Anais Nin Speaking with Henry Miller – Part Three
Created by Jk the secret keeper
Illustrations by j. kiley
Created 11th January 2014
Posted Sunday 12th 2014
A WRITER’S WORD

anais-nin photo

Anais Nin

Anais Nin
Speaking with Henry Miller
Part Three

I confide
in him
completely,

in the
profound
Henry.

He is
won over.

He says,
“Such love
is wonderful.
I do not hate
or despise
that. I see
what you give
each other.

I see it
so well.

Let me
read on.

This is
a revelation
to me.

I tremble
while
he is
reading.

He understands
too well.

Suddenly
he says,
“Anais,
I have
just realized
that what I give
is something
course
and
plain,

compared
to that.
I realize
that when
June returns
. . .”

I stop
him.

“You don’t
know what
you have
given me!

It is not
Course
and
plain.”

And then
I add,
“You see
a beautiful
June now.”

Ophelia [1889] Artist John William Waterhouse

Ophelia [1889] Artist John William Waterhouse

I Believe

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
I Believe
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Created 11th January 2014
Posted Saturday 11th January 2014
POETRY IN TONE

I Believe
By Jennifer Kiley
11th January 2014

I believe.
I believe in you.
I believe in art.
I believe in love.
I believe in imagination.
I don’t so much believe in reality.

I am more into fantasy.
What one imagines
Becomes real.

Yet,
Isn’t imagination
Something we create
From out of our dreams
And fantasies?

You are real
But also feel
Like the best part
Of my imagi-nation.

You give me
Such gifts
In your words.
Stating their reality.

If all becomes
A dream,
One after the other,
Or always
Was a dream,
And we continue on
Through our dream world.

Who decides
When to
Change it?

Loving to create.
Imagining something tangible
In my mind
And placing it
Before me.

Trusting others
To share it.
To be kind.

Trusting myself
To know
When it is complete,
Or when it is time again

Something new
Might be created.
The creating is
Not known
Until complete

And even then
May continue on
Into a new form.

Creating.
Knowing
When the time
Is now.

Keeping
The sense of the real
Alive
And
Remembered.

The fine line
Ravels on
Its own.

I think the pain
We feel
Are memories
Of being opened up
To waking nightmares.

To torturers
Who find
A weakness
In the flesh
And leave
A lasting
Memory.

One
Of those
Memories
That last too long
Beyond forever.

The side that feeds
Creativity,
Is the Muse,
Who becomes
The filter,
Deciphering
What to let through
And at what place
In time
For something
To be revealed.

In your own
Special way,
You have helped
Giving guidance
Touching down into
A safe landing.

The veil
Is being lifted
The sight
Of a vision
Streaming
Through the mesh

When it finds
A receptive being
To listen,
Hear, see,
Absorb, interpret,
Recreate in their own vision
And express it freely,
As it wants to appear.

It guides us
Somewhere
Within the mind.

Sleep is calling.
In sleep
We meet many
New things,
New happenings.
Ways of communicating
Within states of mind
Not in our control.

When asleep,
Don’t we give away
Our control?

Trust sleep?
Trusting sleep,
Is that safe?

What does
Sleep do
To any of us?

Do we know
Where we go
And can anything
We dream
Take us away
From our life?

A curious response.
Will read after I wake up.
Love to know what I write
After I am awake again.

© JkM 2014

love leaning - artist jk mccormack (c) JkM 2014

Love’s Ripple Dreaming – Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2014