Private Writings: Chapter #52 — Waiting for the Fall

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #52 – Waiting for the Fall

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Alexander Segregio
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 11th March 2014

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

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
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 #52 — Waiting for the Fall

Tuesday 2nd September 2008

Dear Annie,

We have a problem developing. My feelings for Jamie have been growing. Their level is rising to the top of becoming extremely intense. I would say it is love. But I don’t seem to have any idea what the fuck love feels like. I get a fix on it. It all changes up. The one I love throws denial at me. Negating everything I feel exists between us. Is she lying to me? What is real between Jamie and myself. I have been attracted to Jamie since the first time I met her. Her eyes locked mine with her look. That’s why everyone loves her on the screen.

You know what I’m talking about. Look at how your daughter Rainer goes completely shy around Jamie.

Why am I talking this way. Jamie is my heroine. She rescued me from Sylvia. It was so swashbuckling. Crashing through my study door. Getting the police on the phone. Taking down Sylvia with Patrick our cat. He was a fierce one the night Sylvia raped me. I am dealing with the reality. I may not remember it all but I know she brutalized me. After she drugged me with a paralyzing effect. Date rape drug they think. I knew what was happening but I was physically unable to stop her. She violated me worse than any man could. One thing she did, I hate to talk about it. But if I write about it to you, maybe I will be able to get it out. I will write it for you. But I don’t think I want to talk about it. At least not now or ever maybe.

What I want to tell you may drive me mad someday. She touched me all over my body, inside as well. When I feel fear, I lose control of my senses. The adrenaline is fired up shooting through my veins. My blood is pumping out of fright. She took advantage of me. My fear let me down. When she touched me, my skin responded to her touch. My stomach wanted to turn into Linda Blair and spit green soup at her. And a few spins around with my head to terrify her. Instead she kept touching all the points that trigger my sexual responses. Her touches teased the responses out of my body. Until finally she won. She turned my body around and made me completely respond by losing control of my physical reactions. She forced me to react fully to her touch. It is what a rapist can do to confuse the one being abused. It makes me feel as though my body wanted it. When I know my body wasn’t cooperating, it was being coerced and forced to have a natural release from the kind of stimulation that was happening. She stole my last connection to feeling any hope of regaining my ability to respond to the touch of a lover.

I  am mad with grief that once again an abuser took those feelings away from me. How my body feels is like a traitor to our self- preservation and sanity. My mind is going mad. That awful woman raped me and stole away the most intimate part of being physically turned on. It seems only rapists can find that inner part of me. The vulnerability of intimacy has been destroyed by force. Conquering my power and stealing my essence from me. I am a shell. Emptied by a brutality I thought was over. I felt I had finally succeeded in vanquishing my abusers from my life. My sense of safety has been smashed to pieces by sexual force. I will never be able to feel trust with anyone again.

The night of the rape, Jamie crashed in my door. She threw Sylvia off of me, while Patrick, our magnificent feline, jumped on her and sunk his claws in deep, front and back. He wasn’t going to let her go. She released a blood-curdling yell at the torture Patrick’s claws were making of her back. A certain satisfaction flooded over me when I realized the rape was physically over with Sylvia but the flashbacks and memories buried from my childhood abuse were coming through the barriers. Visually perfect clearance. My senses were feeling the walls that protected me, breaking down around me. I was hallucinating a slide show of what they did to me. The many abusers my father had lined up for me and the abuse the ‘shadow mother’ perpetrated on my body, mind, soul and overall spirit, joie de vive. I lost the battle in childhood and have been in therapy ever since. My therapist doesn’t think I ever will heal. I will just grow out from it but it will be in the foundation of my life, that holds me together. If there is rot won’t it eventually collapse? That’s what I feel it’s doing now deep inside me. Slowly destroying my self, my identity, my sanity, my dreams. I am disappearing in the maze of darkness. Trapped. No way out. Can’t see anything clearly except the past and the abuse.

Jamie came to me that night after her brave rescue. We lay down together on the floor of my study. She threw a throw over us. I was shaking. Jamie’s arms wrapped around me so gently. Her hand was stroking my hair. She whispered over and over, “It will be alright.” I knew she wanted to mean that but it wasn’t ever going to be alright. It never was alright. Being forced to have a sexual response when you find that repulsive is the worse thing that can happen when you are being sexually abused as a child or as an adult. This has happened twice to me now. Once when I was 10 and my father forced me to go off with his friend. That friend of his touched me against my will and his touches awakened a feeling inside of me I never felt before. What happened then happened with Sylvia. She forced me like my father’s friend did by touching me in a way that made it impossible to fight the way my body reacted. It haunted me then and now it is complete. The destruction of trusting my body and allowing anyone to ever touch in that way again.

It is driving me mad. I don’t trust anyone. Not even Jamie, though I may want to. I know she would never do anything to harm me. She wouldn’t force herself on me in any way. So why do I feel she has abandoned me whenever she goes away or when she is silent when you expect she will be there for you. Jamie is an exceptional woman and I love her. When we talked awhile back about love. She said it is possible to feel in love with someone special without it ever having to be sexual. To feel in love can be a powerfully emotional feeling that goes beyond a casual friendship. It is an intense spiritual bonding that relates on the level of pure love. The love in energizing. It feels spectacular. It can take you higher than any sexual love is capable of reaching.

I need this feeling of in love less the sexual element. Jamie understands. I’ve talked to her about my theory before now. It is why I trust her to comfort me. She would never put on me any inappropriate feelings that I cannot handle now, but then I never have been able to handle the sexual aspects of life, not love. I try to keep love away from sex. Keeping it pure. Real but without the Tantric side the bodies needs to  express with another person.  Working out rebellious sexual feelings one can do alone. It is the safest way to stop when you want to.

It use to be a desire of mine to have the perfect lover and to make love with everything flowing perfectly. It isn’t going to happen for me. The abusers, my parents, and siblings ruined it for me to be intimate with anyone. When I am close to anyone physically, I feel like a failure. My body takes control and shuts down. It will not open up again. The only way to have sex with me is to force yourself on me. And then you need to force me to do what you want.

It is driving me quite mad. All of this mess. I just want to die. I feel it more strongly every moment I have an opportunity to think. I try to stop myself from thinking. To stop my feelings. Screaming comes to mind. The worse thing is starting to happen, the confusion is beginning to take over my psyche. In this state, everything, everyone, everywhere feels  dangerous. Now this sense of danger surrounds me. My thoughts call out with words, ‘Please, just hold me Jamie. Where is Scottie. I need Scottie too. And Alison. I need her to be close now. I need to know no one else is in danger.’ My mind can’t think of anything but feeling threatened. There is no one I can trust. Those people touched us in places without our permission. I never wanted any of it. I hate sex with men. I hate sex with anyone. I hate being used for sex. Being forced to have sex. Having sex feel so destructive. It is an invasion of intimacy when it is not wanted and never wanted from those who force it on me.

What do you suppose it feels like when someone uses your body for their own pleasures, as if you didn’t exist except in the power they can overlord you with, knowing they can rape you anytime they want. Daytime. Nighttime. When you are asleep. Wherever you are. A molester can find you. They watch you. They know your schedule and your habits. Most of all they are uncanny at their ability to find you alone in a perfect place for them to force sex on you. Mostly, they just want to fuck you or fondle you. They take pictures of your body parts. You never feel safe. Threats are always made. Be quiet. Tell no one. Or die.

I needed to get this out. What I am feeling? Am I going mad from all of this turmoil? A darkness is coming. A depression like weighted pockets and walking into the sea to drown. Except I am afraid to drown, not to die. Let me die wiped clean of these memories of Hell and Evil. Before I die, I want to know what it feels like to be loved for who I am, not by someone who wants to kidnap my body for their own games and sadistic pleasures. There isn’t satisfaction in any of this, only nightmares.

I will send this off to you Annie so you know what is developing. Last point I will add. I am in danger from myself. It is close to hiding sharp objects and extra pills. But I won’t do that. Just in case I need to go away forever.

So sorry Annie that I feel this way. Even you won’t be able to bring me back from this mess inside my head. My body is ruined. I want to get rid of it so no else can touch it again without my permission. It is wrong to touch anyone who says no. No more wrong again touches.

Love You Annie. Please don’t ever leave me.


© madison taylor 2008

tree sun moon swirl painitng

Artist Alexander Segregio

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Pink Flower by Tom Bradshaw 2013

Pink Flower by Tom Bradshaw 2013

“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

I Believe

I Believe
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Created 11th January 2014
Posted Saturday 11th January 2014

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.

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.

When the time
Is now.

The sense of the real

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

Of those
That last too long
Beyond forever.

The side that feeds
Is the Muse,
Who becomes
The filter,
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
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
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

Private Writings: Chapter #31 — New World Sympathy

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #31 — New World Sympathy
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 22nd October 2013



Crypticistic Synopsis:

I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through
letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script
“Brief Sacrifice,” already made into a film but not yet released, psycho-
therapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind,
soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or
having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes,
near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality,
time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,
and a need to discover my bliss.

See you inside.
Namaste! Madison Taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #31 — New World Sympathy

Tuesday, 15th April 2008

Dear Annie,

I needed to concentrate on something specific this week but never got to tell you. In this letter, I will write it down, so next week we can get into detail about what I am feeling. Taking off to Paris, France with Scottie in a few weeks, so she can begin shooting our new film. It is giving me a great deal of apprehension. You may want to talk to Scottie about what I am going to tell you. She doesn’t get what I am trying to say. If someone else talks to her, she may listen. It may feel like it is coming from someone she feels is being rational. In this situation, that is not how she feels I am coming across. I wrote down as clearly as possible, what we need to talk about.

First, it is okay to talk to Scottie about anything. She will tell you if it is alright with her or not. You can trust her to keep it confidential. It begins with her friendship with the actor, Hunter Marx, and the fact we don’t talk about her. Scottie told me she doesn’t want to get involved with what I feel regarding Hunter. I don’t think Scottie grasps the seriousness of what is going on. Since she doesn’t want to talk to me about Hunter, there is no way for me to explain to her how I am feeling. She thinks I am just being contrary when I say anything. Scottie has no idea how serious Hunter affected me in the past. How much damage Hunter did to my being able to trust. For me, it is better to talk to you, Annie or my friend Jonathan. I feel safer keeping what I feel from Scottie.

Recently, Scottie had a conversation with Hunter. I woke up hearing Scottie’s voice. Realizing she was talking to someone, I couldn’t help but overhear part of what Scottie was saying. She was telling Hunter about me regarding my habit of ending relationships when I feel hurt. She said, I end things abruptly and cold. This made me feel hurt and betrayed she would tell Hunter this. Especially, after the way it blew up between Hunter and me. What Scottie doesn’t realize is that was me when we first met, I was younger, more naive, extremely trusting and much more gullible. I have since worked on my need to run away. I try to work things out now. But with Hunter, there wasn’t anything to work out. I tried reaching her but was rejected too many times to remember the count.

Hunter’s need for secrecy and extreme privacy, I never felt it was okay to really talk to Scottie about the relationship I had with Hunter. She made it perfectly clear no one was to know what was happening between us. She told me, she was afraid the press would find out and think she was a lesbian. You know what kind of relationships this kind of privacy reminds me of, an abusive one. Abusers don’t want you to tell anyone about them. Hunter didn’t want anyone to know the kind of manipulation that was happening.

Scottie has no idea what I did for Hunter to draw Scottie into her life. Scottie was trying to cast an important film and I felt manipulated into getting Scottie to take a closer look at Hunter. Scottie didn’t act terribly comfortable around Hunter, so, I stepped in to smooth the way. I, now feel she used me to get what she wanted from Scottie and I fell right into her trap and gave Scottie over to her on a “silver platter. Like a fucking idiot. Oh, so, clever Hunter was manipulating us both. And now Scottie can’t see the truth no matter how I try to explain it to her. She just won’t listen. Thinks I am just being contrary because of how I feel.

Let me try to explain it more clearly. Hunter controlled me. She owned me. It was her decision when we would have contact and when it would be cut off. I destroyed pages of a great script because she felt it sounded too much like I was writing about her. I became so upset. To me it was about what it felt like to be bipolar. I wanted the character to talk about what it felt like when she became delusional and had irrational thoughts. I blew up and lost it. She upset me so much that I destroyed the whole script. It was something I sweated pain to create. She had turned into my Svengali. When she first got to know me she pretended to like my honesty. Once she hooked me to her drug of choice, herself, we became what I felt were friends. One of her requirements, she wanted me to keep all that went on between us to myself. Suddenly, I had to be so secretive. No one could know we were close friends.

I don’t think I can go back to being any place where she is. Hunter became delusional. She started telling me I had betrayed her and that I was disloyal. She pushed me away with her accusations. They were all lies based on nothing. She was trying to make me doubt my writing. The ultimately, real insanity started when I starting making friends with another actor she used to call a friend. She told me I was betraying her by being friends with this actor and it had to stop. I felt that was going too far. She did that with a lot of people in the film industry with whom I was making new connections. It was necessary and part of developing our film production company, Scottie’s and mine, “Infinite Imaginations, Inc..

I never did drop any of the people she wanted me to. Why should I, she was being ridiculous and way beyond the boundaries of being too demanding. She may have been a rising star but I didn’t need her to connect with others in the film industry. My work was beginning to have a buzz developing around it and so was “Infinite Imaginations, Inc.” Scottie doesn’t get the fact Hunter used me to get to her. And after I took my control back and pushed her away, she did everything she could after that to hurt me, including the absurdity of trying to come between Scottie and me. Hunter learned quickly it wouldn’t work. Scottie and I were too strong together.

When I flash back and remember when I first started becoming friends with Hunter, Scottie told me I should be careful, a friend had warned her. I don’t know if Scottie has forgotten or Scottie is trying to be diplomatic but she has no idea the torture I felt throughout that friendship. I trust Scottie, but she will be having contact with Hunter again. She cast her in the lead for our new film. No title has been finalized. Is it possible for me to just be professional with her? I feel it is going to be very uncomfortable. She is the one who cut me off cold but I am the one who wanted it to remain that way. A closed book, let go without regrets.

When my friendship with Hunter started, I thought it would be one of those that would last. That was me feeling promise and being delusional. I was living a fantasy. The truth is, I always felt like I had no rights in the relationship. Always a sense I needed permission to even contact her. It is awful to examine an abusive relationship when you realize you didn’t even recognize it when it was happening. Hunter had to be in total control. I let her at the expense of my own sense of self. I was reliving how my own mother treated me. This might sound crazy, but the only time I felt delusional was when I was with her. Which makes me feel now, she was doing something bordering on voodoo that set off my irrational thoughts.

I don’t know if I should delete this or let you see what has been going on inside my mind all this time. It is only now coming to the surface. I am going to use these revelations in my writing. There has to be a way to release all this toxic muck that filled me with poison. How the hell could I have been so blind?

You are my therapist. This is the kind of thing I should trust you with. Who else can I talk to about this shit? How destructive have I allowed myself to be?

Now, my life seems to be moving on a rapid cycle of change, looking for a landing spot, and claim a space for psychological and emotional rest. Hope you can help me find peace before death comes to take me away. All I want is a modicum sense of security and well-being.


Ps. This week, we were supposed to talk about the invitation from Scottie to join her on her film making quest to Paris, France, to film her next film with the script I wrote for her. It is a romance, with a touch of the ghost. A light comedy, with a touch of the spirit world invading the party. That’s the title, it just came to me, “Touch of the Spirit.” Anyway, it is really important we work on getting me prepared to fly. It freaks me out. Leaving our home. Going over the Atlantic Ocean. We could crash. We could drown. I suppose, though, the crash would kill us first. That was stupid to say out loud. Knock on wood.

PPs. Also, I am sorry, I have been so nervous, I didn’t include anything about our film “Brief Sacrifice.” I will tell you in our session more of the adventure. It gets really exciting when James and Jackson Sharp connect psychically. The power between Jackson and James wakes up an unimaginable energy field. Wait til you see special effect. It is so charged up. A great vibration comes from within the “Silver Box.” It appears together, the two, a cat and a human, have cracked the code. Seams begin to show, revealing signs of a thin crack which encircles the “Silver Box.” By our next letter, I feel strongly the “Silver Box” will be revealing its contents. From there we will have to determine what the significance is of what’s inside. Ciao!

© madison taylor 2008

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

<em>Somewhere In Time – John Barry</em>

Robert Mapplethorpe --- 28 Closeup Yellow Lily

Robert Mapplethorpe — 28 Closeup Yellow Lily

rain in garden gif

Missing You Though We’re Not Gone
by Madison Taylor
Tuesday 22nd April 2008

Missing you though we’re not gone
Fear you will leave before me
Without you I will be left alone
In this way I could not ever be

Your presence is a wanted dream
To think and speak of many things
To brighten days shine as the sun
Our family whole what love it brings

One day in hours the time will come
We’ll spend the minutes creating fun
In company together we shall be
In spirit connecting forever free

© madison taylor 2008

Psychedelic Alpha Coders

Psychedelic Alpha Coders

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212 Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

actresses-with-long-hair-hairstyle frenchHunter Marx [taken 7 years ago in 2001 year Hunter & Madison met]

play is not just play meryl streep

Private Writings: Chapter #28 — Death on the Veranda

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #28 – –Death on the Veranda
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Published Introduction & Chapter #1
On 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On 1st October 2013
Dedicated to Julie Andrews. Always Wished She Were My Mother.
Happy Birthday! 1st October 1935 Day J.A. Blessed This World. Saved My Life.



Crypticistic Synopsis:

I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through
letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script
“Brief Sacrifice,” already made into a film but not yet released, psycho-
therapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind,
soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or
having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes,
near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality,
time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,

and a need to discover my bliss.
See you inside.
Namaste! Madison Taylor

Private Writings: — Chapter #28: Death on the Veranda

Tuesday 1st April 2008

Dear Annie,

That was some announcement you made in group. I was stunned and couldn’t react in our session or in group today. I thought it being April Fool’s Day you were joking. First you tell us group had one more meeting, the last being next Tuesday followed by our session. Then to top that off, came the shock of the decade. The police declared Angie’s death a homicide. They arrested Dr. George. He has been charge with her murder. They feel the evidence is pretty airtight. The only thing you didn’t say was the cause of death.

A murder, I thought so all along, but Dr. George. Why would he throw away everything for her? It doesn’t sound right to me. She was not a very nice person. He must have been threatened to make him kill her. Not trying to blame the victim, but why are the police being so quiet about it all. Not a clue to go on. Curious mind wants to know. It’s driving slowly by a crash scene. You don’t want to see the gore but you do want to know what happened. Everyone does, unless they have a total lack of curiosity.

I hope he didn’t do it and a good lawyer gets him off. My feelings aside, he doesn’t deserve prison for putting up with her for ten years. We both started seeing him about the same time. He seemed alright back then, but deteriorated slowly since then. Retiring would have been one way to go, but murder. To be taken out by killing someone. That’s going a bit too far, indubitably.

I don’t mean to take this so lightly, but it is April Fool’s, remember. It all seems like a dream someone sat on and all the cream filling went smush! Should I really be serious? Angie died. I don’t miss her. Don’t even say I should, just little. Never. Not ever. She stuck me every week with her sarcasm and fucked up sense of propriety. Homophobia, she took to an extreme. She was twisted. Perverse. Jealous, I have someone who loves me. Couldn’t stand anyone being happy, if she wasn’t. I know she was definitely pissed off at the whole fucking world, like it owed her something.

Well, I do not miss her. Maybe sorry she was murdered. That part is terrible. It hurts her kids. I remember what I said when we all first heard about it, I said her kids would have a better life. But I am sure they are hurting now. It creeps me out thinking about it.

You mentioned in group, at the close, there is another group forming soon. It would be a selected group. More specific but you didn’t say how specific. I should have asked you in session but it slipped my mind. Feeling depressed for the past several days needed more attention.

Everything felt so lost. The more I felt myself slipping away from the real world, the deeper the pain was cutting into my flesh. Wanting to make myself hurt with physical pain was my only distraction from wanting to kill myself. Wanting to die was so powerful. A voice was speaking to me, “how do you think your friends and Scottie and your animals feel if you died by killing yourself.” It is my animals and Scottie who keep me around. And the friend who spoke those words, she, also, keeps me alive. I couldn’t hurt any of them, not in taking my own life. I have no control over feeling depressed. It is build into the misfiring of my brain.

Being bipolar gives me such highs. I write the sharpest dialogue and scenes are filled with life. When I’m depressed, I find a way of using those moments to be creative, also. But the pain courses through my blood, wanting to burst through like a gusher. The pressure in my head, to scream out the need to beat myself, to make myself bleed. Depression is so difficult to talk about, everyone backs away from it. They don’t get it. The worse things a person can do to a person who is feeling this way is to tell them to “Snap Out of It,” or “Get Over It, ” and the best, “What Do You Have to be Depressed About? You’ve got a great life.”

Depression has nothing to do with what you have or how much money in your bank account. You could be the wealthiest person in the world. Depression doesn’t acknowledge the means of one’s life. Graduating college Head of the Dean’s List, head of your class, editor of the college paper, that isn’t recognized when you want to kill yourself. Being nominated for an Oscar, absolutely nothing in it stops depression. When Depression wants to grab ahold of you, pull you down or push you closer and closer to the edge, nothing will stop it but trying to refocus its’ intentions. It feels an entity onto itself, with more power then I have inside of me to fight it.

I have won all the battles so far, but they are not through with me. Probably never will be. It is my battle to have two prominent sides to my bipolar. I am just so excited when I am excited because I am not depressed. There is a catch. Being high on life when bipolar can spin you too far to the upper end. You can get too high. Once again, the possibilities of losing control.

I want to switch over to a quick look into “Brief Sacrifice.” I have one piece for you this week from the script. There is a secret organization trying to locate the Friends of Nikola Tesla. They want to destroy them. They know something is changing. They know Carter McLeod is in possession of the Silver Box, and that it holds magical powers. They want to retrieve this and the person who holds it. Their anagram is GEUSS. Pronounced as the word “Guess.” I will tell you in my next letter about the initials and what the anagram means.

We should really talk about what I wrote and the poem I know I am going to write after I finish this letter.

It makes me feel so happy your being in my life.



Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

<em>Somewhere In Time – John Barry</em>


Calla Lily Bunch

rain in garden gif

Screaming Death
Written by Madison Taylor
1st April 2008

Screaming death
Life ending

Living has too many endings
Once there
Into invisible air

Pain fills the heart
Exploding like fireworks
Shooting stars
Covering the sky

Blood spurting
From dying flesh
Taken out
By the enemy

All is stolen
Not yet lived

Just gone
All is gone
Ripped apart
Stolen away from love

© madison taylor 2008

Reflecting Abstract Artist --- Jaison Cianelli

Reflecting — Abstract Art — Artist — Jaison Cianelli

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212 Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher framed

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep

Why Do We Sleep?

tell me a story
Why Do We Sleep?
TED Talk: Russell Foster
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Created 21st August 2013
Posted Thursday 19th September 2013
Russell Foster: Why Do We Sleep? TEDTalk

will this help u sleep anoes freddie

Freddy Kruger Nightmare on Elm Street

Point #1

We think of sleep as something we need a cure for
rather then treating it as something we all need.

Point #2

Lack of sleep causes weight gain.

Point #3

The body craves carbohydrates.

Point #4

Sustained stress due to lack of sleep.

Point #5

Glucose gets thrown into the mixture with sleep loss
which eventually leads to diabetes.

is this your face in nightmares  iotbs kevin mccarthy

Kevin McCarthy in Invasions of the Body Snatchers

Point #6

Try not to drink caffeine late in the day.
Preferably not after lunch.

Point #7

There are morning people and evening people.
I find that morning people are just horribly smug.

Point #8

Mental illness and sleep.
Sleep disruption is associated with mental problems.

Point #9

Sleep was irregular.
Stayed up late at night and slept during the day.

Point #10

Genes are connected to normal sleep.

don't sleep  tnotbs ds

Donald Sutherland in [newer version] Invasions of the Body Snatchers

Point #11

Genes connected to mental illness
smashes your sleep.

Point #12

High risk to develop Bipolar with sleep disruption.

Point #13

Lack of sleep exacerbates symptoms of mental illness.

Point #14

Take sleep seriously.

Point #15

We use to understand the importance of sleep.

Point #16

If you get enough sleep,
it improves your moods,
mental health.

Poetry Out Loud: Change

poetry out loud - day title saturdayChange
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created Friday 13th September 2013
Posted Saturday 14th 2013

la fleur bleu d'artiste by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

la fleur bleu d’artiste by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Thursday 12th September 2013

Change makes life magic
Wandering wild through the mind
Freeing crust covering dreams

Expectations gone
Stretch universe past limits
Liberation wide open

Art is creative
Rescued ideas in thoughts
No depth created not art

© jennifer kiley 2013

flowing time by yaroslava

Flowing Time by Yaroslava

Cant U Feel the Change — David Guetta

Private Writings: Chapter #25 — Private Dancer

private writings by jennifer kileyPrivate Writings: Chapter #25 — Private Dancer
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Published Introduction & Chapter #1 On 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On 10rd September 2013


Crypticistic Synopsis:

I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script ‘Brief Sacrifice,’ already made into a film but not yet released, psychotherapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind, soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes, near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality, time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,

and a need to discover my bliss.
See you inside.
— Namaste! Madison Taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #24 — Private Dancer

Tuesday 11th March 2008

Dear Annie,

What do I say to you about our first day of private therapy.

If you could imagine my waiting for you to come out to get me in the waiting room. My insides were flipping over. The chair could have floated out from underneath me, I was ascending to the ceiling so often. Then it came. Your hand gently resting on my shoulder. The electric current woke me from a trance. My ear buds were in. Music was high, playing ‘Everything I Do, I Do It For You.’ I’m sure you’re familiar with Bryan Adams.

You touched me. It was the first time. So unexpected but I didn’t flinch. Your hand felt so safe. No touch does from people. Why, then was it okay with you? Therapy began in a moment I never will forget.

I didn’t say anything. Just followed you to your office. It was exactly how my mind imagined it. There is a photograph in my head. Your office is exactly identical. I have been seeing the future again.

What did we talk about? I was in a daze. Being alone with you was overwhelming. After the long wait of wishing for just this day. It seemed like being inside of a dream I’ve been dreaming forever. You have been buried, living inside my mind. You are the one.

Explaining what I mean is beyond human words. It is buried in memories outside of time. A recurring sense of familiarity without any connection till now. It is of times past. Other lives. Reincarnation. Having been together before now. We knew and lived in other times together. What I am writing sounds certifiable to most. Look how people tease Shirley MacLaine. People believe but are embarrassed by believing in such seemingly bizarre, other dimensional phenomena. I do believe mostly, but have doubts when others question the strength of my beliefs.

I am so easily influenced. What I believe floats with the breeze and seems too easily changeable as is the direction of the wind. It is not because I don’t belief what I do belief, it’s my need to question everything. Which leaves me feeling confused, as though I stand on the solidness of quicksand most of the time.

Everything in life confuses me. In a moment I will believe in something being as real as anything can be. In a flash the connection is broken. Reality turns into a nightmare of chaotic brainwaves of disbelief. A crumbling of my reality into a collection of delusional thoughts, a puzzle where the pieces don’t fit together any way you try to make sense of them.

I lose track. Stop knowing what to believe. Testing anything becomes too frightening. The fear, is my reality is false, and my delusions are true. What does one do when thinking and feeling like the world is alien, which trips back and forth at will, no control from within me.

I think it is why I like fantasy. Watching movies. Reading books. Writing outrageous fiction. Creating cryptic poetry. The abstract is more acceptable. It can be whatever it wants to be. Change when it wants to. It is simply accepted. A true shape-shifter. Maybe I am one. Never the same. Always someone different.

Will you be able to help me. I need a complete internal make-over. Inside of me lives a very fucked up mess. Filled with fear. Wanting to love but retreating as soon as it feels too close. Reaching for it. Shutting down when it is given. I would say I am really screwed. The up part I let it be cut off. Most of the time I don’t feel up. When I do, it drives everyone crazy except me. I don’t live outside my body. I don’t notice the extreme agitation and rage. I become fixated and driven. I have no idea why I feel the way I do, except most of the moments when I am awake I chase after the muse to keep up. Exactly like Alice with her White Rabbit. I fall down the Rabbit Hole on a regular basis.

The Mad-Hatter is a really great friend, if one can be friends with someone as crazy as you are. Actually, maybe it is easier. Is there a direction we can take to relieve the pressure? The urges to want out of this world. Oh, yeah, the state of suicidal thinking is a regular visitor in my head. We are co-operating companions. I won’t let her harm me, she knows it is true, so the deal is, I let her exist as long as she lets me have my moments of being in my bliss or high, so I can write and create. She even helps sometimes find those hidden meanings and depth I find so elusive. She knows the secret passageways to memories. Knowledge one can’t find in the wide awake world. Too much bright light can hide the views of the darkness. The answers lie in the darkness. The ones I am seeking.

So what did we talk about. I asked you to tell me who you were. Not using those words. You told me you had a daughter in high school, ninth grade I believe. She wants to be an actor. The plays and musicals she’s been in, all were as the lead. See if my memory fails or leads me to the correct answers. Memory failure is common with me. To begin with, she played Maria in West Side Story. Let me think, she was Juliet in Shakespeare’s modernized production of my beloved ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ Marvelous play. Such an ending, an example of extremely bad timing all around for all those ending up dead. Quite a high number but not as severe as Hamlet.

Which brings me to Hamlet. Her school switched things up a bit on Elizabethan rules, had a lady playing a young man in the way of Hamlet. Your daughter was the lucky one to win the sweet role. The sheer fact at her age to succeed at doing a shortened version of Hamlet or any version is extremely difficult. But you told me she always received excellent write-ups in the local paper and school paper, on all her performances. Which makes me feel and think I would like to meet her someday. Make an attempt to write her the perfect part in one of my screenplays. We will discuss this. If she has aspirations toward being a professional actor, Scottie, my partner in life and career, is a director. We have our own production company, ‘Infinite Imaginations, Inc. III.’ If you would like and she agrees, we could arrange a screen test, see how she appears through the eye of the camera.

If you help to fix me, I would be overjoyed to help you with your daughters future in the world of film. It would, actually be my pleasure. You would know she’d be safe with Scottie watching out for her. And I’d write her an Oscar winning role. Not over-confident, am I?

This leads me right into my favorite part of writing to you. I love telling you about my work and particularly my latest script, ‘Brief Sacrifice.’ We left off with Carter pursuing a lead, following the trail of the Magic Silver Box without any seams and impossible to open. Carter needed the input of her three companions, Jasper, Jax, and James, her Savannah Cats. James’ specific psychic ability was the best way to sort things out but they must follow the trail of its origin.

The first destination was the Estate where Carter purchased her Treasure. Hopefully, they could provide information as to the origins or name of the deceased whose Estate was being sold. If Carter had that name, it could lead to other connections.

After arriving, they found the caretaker. He directed Carter to the lawyer’s office who managed the deceased estate. The firm was hired by Jackson Sharp, to take care of closing out the estate. They directed Carter to where she could locate him.

When she found Jackson Sharp, he invited her in, as though he was expecting her. After the amenities, he asked her and her companions to make themselves very comfortable, for he, Jackson Sharp had a story to tell them.

He started out his story as follows: “The deceased was the Leader of the Organization: The Friends of Nikola Tesla. He managed the Friends of Nikola Tesla since shortly after his, Tesla’s, death at a young age . He died penniless after creating amazing inventions. He worked for Edison, whom he had no affection for but was fortunate to have acquired the support of an extremely wealthy entrepreneur in Morgan and later joined by another wealthy benefactor.”

“Tesla was moving forward with his inventions until he came upon a way for everyone in the world to have free electricity by simply putting a specially devised pole in the ground. The best part is the power from these sources would not only make electricity free, it would eventually create absolutely no need for the use of fossil fuels. Oil that is, Texas gold.”

“Well, his wealthy benefactors did not want this invention to ever see the light of his invention. They buried him. Withdrew their financial support. No one was ever going to see his dream in action. It did sneak into the invention of the Tesla Electric Car, which is doing very well.”

“After Tesla’s death, the U.S. Government absconded with all his possessions where he was living, and hid them away. Did they get everything, though? I believed in Nikola Tesla, myself, once I heard the story from the old man who died. I’m sorry I cannot tell you his identity, it was my promise to never reveal his secret.

“Tesla was brilliant. Did anyone believe he would not have secret locations where he would hide his own secret inventions. Especially after all which had been stolen from him. He was sure to want to leave a legacy for the future where he hoped there would be those who would understand his genius and his amazing capabilities. I am privileged to those secrets. During the remaining years of his life, the old man, with a group of secret individuals of like minds, protected Nikola Tesla’s answers to the future of humankind.”

“These secrets are set to be passed down through generations until humankind is worthy of the powers Nikola Tesla put into his work and dreams. Even the powers of electricity free for all is well hidden away until the world can rid itself of the parasites who live off the energy of the masses. Who cast them aside as though they meant nothing. The .01% of the population are those parasites who are starving the world as they destroy the beauty in nature and make slaves of the majority of humankind. Their day will fall. They will disappear for good.”

“On that day, all the secrets will be revealed. Humankind will make a change. All will be new. The world will be recreated. This is Nikola Tesla’s dream and what Friends of Nikola Tesla are protecting until the time comes for his Dream to be put into full action.”

“All of this is contained in a special Silver Box filled with Magical abilities. This Magic has the capability to alter the world enough so that Change and Truth can be revealed. If I am not mistaken,” Jackson Stark said. “You are in possession of this Silver Box ?”

“Yes, that is correct, but how did you know?” Carter said.

“It was meant to belong to you. You were chosen. I will explain, but let us rest now. I will have arrangements made for you, Carter, and your companions to stay here for while. It’s just for your own protection.”

“What protection? Why do we need protection?”

“The contents of the Silver Box is being searched for as we speak. Many extremely dangerous people will not stop ever until it is found, those who have knowledge of it and those who are in possession of it, are all destroyed. What you hold in your possession is truly Magical, with powers you will find very difficult to understand. It is too soon to get into what it is. The time will be soon enough.”

“Now let me show you to your suite, where you can make your selves comfortable. I will prepare a delicious meal for everyone. Don’t worry Jasper, Jax and you, too, James. I know James, you are the Special One with all the psychic talents. It’s rare to find a cat who matches up with a companion who understands his ability. You can, can’t you, Carter! You have the Magic, also. That is partly why you were all chosen. But there you are. I am getting ahead of myself. I will leave now. Get comfortable. You will find snacks for all in the small refrigerator over against the wall, just over there. Now, I take my leave. Dinner will come shortly, I promise. I will ring you on the intercom. Rest. You will need it for what’s ahead.”

He disappeared. They did as he said and all rested.

And I will stop there. Leave you wanting more.

What a day. A dream comes true. Fear is rising. But telling you my tale of Magic calms me down.

I know I didn’t say anything about the group. What I would have to write would take away from the specialness of having you all to myself today. I don’t want to think about group anymore. I wish it would just end. Be done with it. The only reason I still go now is to see you. Now I can do that on my own. I will leave group at saying there is little I will miss. The past too many years have only been a disaster I should have ended long ago. But I know now, why I didn’t. It was meant for me to live through, till the day came I would meet you, Annie. Serendipity. Maybe. Sometimes what leads up to it can be extremely painful. I needed to learn what I didn’t need, to discover what I do need, and want. Enough from that lesson. Let it be over now. Enough!

Time to stop.

Until I see you next time.

Fondly and Gratefully, I sign off with much appreciation to you, Annie.

Always Want To Know You,


Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

Somewhere In Time – John Barry



rain in garden giftrusting
written by madison taylor
monday 10th february 2008

trusting the newness
memories overturning
in graves their awakening

arms pull warmth to me
body’s touching silky skin
caressing gently my dreams

feeling hands inside
flesh responds in still silence
open wanting pleads let go

© madison taylor 2008

a matter of time --- artist katherine patrick

a matter of time — artist katherine patrick

Nothing Out There — Soundcloud — Soundtrack ‘Brief Sacrifice’

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212

Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

Chateau de Rocher Art Gallery  999x752

Chateau de Rocher Art Gallery

play is not just play meryl streep

Private Writings: Chapter #24 — Tyranny Is Over-Time to Go Out and Play

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #24 — Tyranny Is Over-Time to Go Out and Play
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Published Introduction & Chapter #1 On 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Published On 3rd September 2013


Private Writings: Chapter #24 — Tyranny Is Over-Time to Go Out and Play

Tuesday 4th March 2008

Dear Annie,

I returned to group as though nothing had happened and continued my interaction with group members. My angry persona was alert to anyone who might make me feel uncomfortable or threatened. I, also, knew Annie was safe. She would be cautious and alert to the behavior of everyone. Nerves would be on edge. Her perceptions would be focused toward any negative acting out. The thought gave me a sense of safety and security.

My worries were not needed. Group was so relaxing, taking into consideration only weeks ago a member had tentatively been murdered. I believe the police are not calling it yet. No one is making any official determinations. I’m not so sure what is holding up what the cause was to Angie’s surprising demise.

It seemed all members of the group including Dr. Haskell, even Dr. George, have been questioned by the police. Dr. George is the person actually called in the local police station. Last Friday, they came to the mansion to meet with Scottie and me. Strange, though, after asking us both where we were at the time of the possible homicide, they separated us. A woman detective talked with me and a male detective went off somewhere with Scottie. It made no sense to me why they would talk to us separately. We weren’t suspect or witnesses. They asked all the questions I could imagine would be necessary. It worried me either one of us would be under suspicion.

These thoughts were running freely around in my mind like streams of consciousness waiting for a dam to stop them or a least slow them down. I tried deep breathing to calm myself. My mind just suddenly started picking up a sense of agitation. I felt the feeling inside my body what I feel prior to something falling down from the heavens, moments before all Hell rips open wide releasing the demons and chaos ensues. My accuracy was usually at 100%. Chicken Little, at this moment be running around manically, screaming: “The rapture is upon us. Prepare! Fire and stones with flowing lava are falling down from the sky. People are floating away. It is the End. All will be destroyed. Prepare for the Time to End.”

My mind was off on its destructive bent. I couldn’t speak. There was a knock at the door. It was loud and demanding entrance. You went to the door Annie. Before you reached it, the pounding became more persistent. It’s loudness didn’t hurry Annie’s movements. Opening the door, Annie was facing the male and female detectives who came to my place on Friday. Why were they here now?

Annie, you were so bold. After you opened the door, here is what I heard you say: “Why are you here? This is a private place, not somewhere the police should be invading. The people in this room have experienced enough trauma. This is a refuge from the world. It is meant to be sacrosanct. I am afraid we are in session. I will not allow you to disturb my clients here, in this manner. You will have to find a different place to meet with anyone in this room, including myself. I must ask you to leave. It is essential the group continue with their session. Thank you. I must close the door now.” And they backed away without one word uttered.

The door closed. Annie returned to her seat without a word. She looked at all our faces and seemed to stop longer on my face. She looked deeply into my eyes, causing me to slip into timelessness. My breathing stopped. My mind was flooding with a warmth filling up my body starting at my feet, the intensity level of heat increasing throughout my entire body. What were your eyes doing? Why were you looking into my eyes, Annie, making me feel like I was melting away into a state of invisibility? Were you making me disappear or were your eyes consuming me? The momentary feeling of fading away diminished slowly until it was gone and I returned back to a balance of wholeness.

The remainder of the time was devoted to talking about the group coming to an end. A majority felt it was time. Only two members weren’t certain they were ready to see it end. You relieved everyone’s anxiety quickly. You told us two new groups were being formed. The first group, you said you would run, but wouldn’t be starting for awhile. It would be to do therapy work on trauma, specifically child abuse, sexual and physical, but not ruling out other forms of trauma. The second group would be starting sooner and be a mixture of male and female, dealing with a variety of issues.

Annie, I was more curious about your group. Therapy for those who went through being abused. The members of your group, would fit me perfectly. It sounds exactly like what I need. Dealing with my childhood has never been something I have been able to talk about or even really remember very well. My memories are not terribly clear. I remember being abused but only in rare flashes filled with intense pain and sensations from sexual and physical brutality. My mind shuts down abruptly whenever any of these types of images come through. They’re like pornography with physical sensations of torture turned on.

One definite form of abuse to add to the list is being emotionally tortured. It occurred around crying, beatings and the strong need to apologize. The catalyst was doing something wrong, whether it was true or not. The necessity to beat me, followed by my tears and the sound of crying. The mere sound of crying set off a madness in the abuser. The beatings were already intense but the sound triggered a sadist, whose beatings became severe. What was happening or what was wrong with me. If the command to stop crying was not met immediately, the level of severity was increased and more force was applied. My flesh would develop welts. The clothing would be removed from the areas where the blows were struck. The commands were persistent. If my crying continued, so did the punishment.

I am not able to complete the memory. It blurs and what I need to remember is gone. Memory reminds me of icebergs and the Titanic. Most of what happened is under water. A nightmare of being surrounded by water. Feeling trapped. There is no moving forward and behind, the entire area is flooded. The nightmare filled the darkness with dreams of my childhood, when I was able to sleep. I stopped being able to sleep at night. Instead, I would fall asleep in classes all the time or stay home. I was sick often, so I stayed home and watched soap operas and napped. It was the only way to get any sleep. It got me hooked on soaps, plus I learned a lot but not necessarily what I needed to understand about my life or what was wrong with me. It was when I started thinking, all I wanted was to die and I thought I was going crazy. I had no understanding of why, only I wanted the reverse, not to die and not going crazy. What was going on in my mind was developing into a real conflict.

I think it’s why I like to make up stories about time travel. In the case of ‘Brief Sacrifice,’ it’s a way to discover the truth about what happened in the past. Issues unresolved, where lies have been told in the place of real honesty. I need to know what really happened. Not settle for a set story to cover the guilt of others complicit in the crimes committed. Going back in time, I will be able to discover the real not what has been told and my level of gullibility to accept the lies at first. I started becoming extremely suspicious. Didn’t trust anyone was telling the truth. Too many cover-ups exist. They need a huge light to shine down on the lies. Enough. An inventor developed something top secret. No one knows but Carter McLeod and her three Savannah cats, Jasper, Jax and James, are close to uncovering the secret of the most fantastic inventor, Nikola Tesla. The invention they are close to finding, will change lives forever. It isn’t free electricity for the entire world, his rich investors made sure to stop it from happening. Our U.S. government made the project disappear. Tesla lost his financial support. He ended up penniless when he died young. Once again the U.S. moved in and confiscated all his belongings. Everything disappeared, except except one item no one knew about. Tesla was brilliant the manner in which he hid the item. He didn’t want just anyone to discover it.

Keep thinking. What could be so powerful and mysterious, Nikola Tesla would go to such extremes to keep it so well hidden. And why Carter McLeod? Is she the one Tesla meant to find it? Was it all planned or originating in serendipity?

Something wicked this way follows. Beware of a thief in the dark.

Just how close is the McLeod Clan? It would be perfect symmetry if a member of Duncan McLeod’s clan could find the treasure. Duncan would be pleased.

Until next Time—Think Immortal!

Also, I need to think Annie. In a week, I will have my first official therapy sessions with you, Dr. Annie Haskell. I am excited but, also, anxious. Let it be a GREAT Session. And all future sessions be as good and Healing.

Fondly & Filled with Anticipation

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

rain in garden gif

Entering My Mind—But Gone Now
Written by Madison Taylor
Monday 3rd February 2008

Entering My Mind—But Gone Now
You entered my mind
The moment you entered my life.
It was an extraordinary afternoon,
No expectations.
Not a normal routine
For some time,
You were there,
A stranger,
Entering my life.
Beware of strangers offering kindness,
Lethal is their bite.
Like a vampire,
You sank your teeth in deep,
Leaving a taste of your essence
To absorb through my flesh.
Waking dreams in my sleep

I put my trust in you
The way to disaster
Going down quickly
Wanting something in you
You gave to me
With many restrictions
Never a warning
You’d crush me someday
Thought you would stay
Awhile—a long time
Everyone leaves
In life it’s a given
My senses know
Long before it happens

Great denial spews forth
In honest statements
Through misdirection
No support in action
Not a liar
Neither truthful be
Your truth is dead to me

Observing your movements
Across a blackened pavement
Of solid ground
Seeing only a stranger
Less familiar than expected
No urge strong or otherwise
To call out to you
Wanting you to see me
Seeing you
No need
No desire for acknowledgement
On either side
You for me or me for you
Is it I who wasn’t the person you knew
And you, who was always a stranger to me, too.

© madison taylor 2008

ethereal  matrix  by j. kiley © jennifer kiley

ethereal matrix by jk mccormack © jKm 2013

Foreigner — I Want to Know What Love Is [extended version]

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212

Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

Havana Brown Cats  Madison and Scottie's kitties  1205x803

Havana Brown Cats Madison and Scottie’s kitties Toker and Mikey—I think the names are in the right order—they do look alike

Bedroom Madison and Scottie Share with High Windows --- Great During Thunderstorms & Rain

Bedroom Madison and Scottie Share with High Windows — Great During Thunderstorms & Rain

play is not just play meryl streep

Spontaneous — A Need To Talk

Spontaneous — A Need To Talk
Tupac Shakur Wrote His Own Death

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Created Monday 2nd September 2013
Posted on Monday 2nd September 2013

While searching out something to help me understand what I am feeling at this moment, I came upon an article on Tupac Shakur, who wasn’t diagnosed but there are beliefs he was bipolar. It shows in his lyrics and street-rap. The up and down moods. I have been in my own up and down spiral. Manic and now depressed. There is not direct reason or evidence you notice. It comes on suddenly and smashes the world inside and around you.

Tupac Shakur

Tupac Shakur

Every thing becomes so heavy. The pain shuts you down. Nothing else matters. Pushing the world away. Wanting to run away, feels like the only thing to do. There’s been too much stimulation from the high I have been in. Playing games with Shawn. Making them up as we go along. Being inventive. It was exciting and fun. I let myself enjoy the moment. Rather then being so driven. But now the energy has been pulled away from me. The excitement has disappeared. Now I just want to poof! disappear into nothingness.

 It took five attempts till they killed him

It took five attempts till they killed him

Here is a small section of what I read from the first article, which inspired this post, I chose in PsychCentral’s Blog Post: Tupac Shakur & Bipolar Disorder

Wordsworth and Coleridge define poetry as, “The spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings,” and written by someone “possessed of more than usual organic sensibility, but also thought long and deep.” Tupac Shakur’s confessional poetry swims in powerful emotion mixed with straight truth found in his sensibility brought forth through deep thought and contemplation coupled with observation of the world around him. The need to seek and manifest truth sits at the heart of Shakur who was often loathed for his hard core vision of truth rooted in his ongoing “spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings,” which flow in his rhythmic lyrics, his beats, and his tone. Honest self-expression that overflows with emotion and carries “organic sensibility” and “thought long and deep are unveiled:”


Now as I stand here, a man here

Not a perfect one, but a searching one

Seek in another, blazing time

Sound crazy but I’m actually trying to escape my mind….

From out the darkness I struggle to see the light ….

But all of them will dream

That I did it my way

In the event of my demise

by Tupac Shakur

They claim that I’m violent, just cause I refuse to be silent

These hypocrites are having fits, cause I’m not buying it

Defying it, envious because I will rebel against

Any oppressor, and this is known as self defense

I show no mercy, they claim that I’m the lunatic.

by Tupac Shakur

Sometimes when I’m alone I Cry, Cause I am on my own.
The tears I cry are bitter and warm. They flow with life but take no form
I Cry because my heart is torn.I find it difficult to carry on.
If I had an ear to confiding, I would cry among my treasured friend,
but who do you know that stops that long,to help another carry on.
The world moves fast and it would rather pass by.
Then to stop and see what makes one cry,so painful and sad.
And sometimes…I Cry and no one cares about why.

My feelings are he knew he was going to die. Several attempts had been made before his life ended, being taken out in an ambush. He was beautiful and sensitive. Tupac Shakur’s words were honest, sensitive and direct.

What is the point of life if you don’t live it honestly, sensitively and direct. Don’t waste your time trying to make life pass by filling it with ways to “pass the time.” BE REAL IN THE MOMENT. Going mindless and numb from car crashes, to near drownings inside, what is the point of being alive if you aren’t alive.

At this moment, I am in a depressed state. A bipolar depressed state, which comes with a side of thoughts and strong urges to commit suicide. I feel like I have pulled back from who I am. Trying to be someone else. I have no real idea of what that means but I feel like I have lost myself. The sky is falling like a meteorite. It’s going to crash through the earth’s atmosphere and like the scene in the film ‘Donnie Darko,’ a jet engine falls from the sky and crashes in through the roof over his bedroom. It kills him. Don’t worry, it’s a weird film and you know this from moment one of the film. Highly recommend if you like quirky and Jake Gyllenhaal.

The place I am going is where life happens. We are never expecting some of what happens. It can be sudden and drastic, life altering change. I love who Tupac Shakur was. His life was real. He lived real. It can be dangerous but it is also exhilarating. It makes you want to live but it makes you want to die, too. At least for those bipolar and some other forms of brain malfunctions.

I have lived the life of a cat and used up many of my lives through car crashes so bad, no way should have survived. I did through the acts of miracles. One person didn’t and another friend and I broke our necks. He is a painter/artist with exhibitions behind him and before him but breaking his neck incapacitated him. He is now able to draw and do some artwork. Mine has effected me by giving me extreme pain. I finally had to endure neck surgery and had a disc removed and a plate put in to secure my neck from paralyzing me. I came split seconds away from almost drowning three times. Was rescued each time, just before I would have inhaled water.

One is never assured a perfect and safe life but we have been given this unusual opportunity to experience all of our senses, at least most of us have. Being depressed and feeling suicidal is an intense experience. In Bipolar In Order, you learn to accept these feelings of being down as part of the experience of being bipolar. Learning to go through the feelings are part of your being alive. Let the feelings be with you. Instead of a curse, I’d rather see them as an intense learning experience.

Ride the wave of depression, just watch out for the under toad, as the son in ‘The World According to Garp’ would say. He always thought the undertow in the ocean sounded like the under toad. That’s what it became to Walt, who ended up having a very short but loving life with a great imagination that was nurtured. The author of ‘Garp,’ John Irving, also, wrote the book ‘Hotel New Hampshire.’ One of the characters, Lily, had a particular saying. It was: “Keep passing the open windows.” Obviously, this line is a euphemism for don’t kill yourself.

It really isn’t a good idea even though it seems so at the time. It does bring on a powerful urge to want to check out from this life but it is only temporary as a bad idea for a solution. Most of the time it is because you can’t handle the strength and intensity of the overwhelming feelings of being lost, feeling hopeless, and feeling like there is no one out there, when deep down you know there is. If you feel you need a hotline, I will post some contacts at the bottom of this post. Don’t give up. You think if you don’t matter, why put yourself through horrible feelings of pain you know are always going to make return visits and always bring new more horrible surprises of deeper and darker downward spirals. “This to shall pass.”

It makes me wonder if Tupac wasn’t setting himself up with his words and songs. These are just my own observations coming from how intense he was in everything he did. He was right out there. He may have set himself up subconsciously to be killed rather than having to do it himself. I am just theorizing. My thoughts are not based on anything I know for a fact. I just know how it feels to be self-destructive.

I have written myself out of the dark place I was falling into. It can be worked through. Everyone needs to find the way that works for them. Some people run or walk their dog. Others paint or cook. What you need to do is find a constructive way to be with your depression and the strong urges to want to end your life. That is what suicide is, besides just a call for help or an escape from the pain or a hopeless situation. You want to feel you’re not alone.

If you are being bullied because you’re different, gay, lesbian, transgender or any other feeling different, you are not alone. We, who are different are here and we all want to help one another. Bullies enjoy feeling the power over others and try to steal yours by insulting you, putting you down, trying to make you feel less about yourself, or they may even get violent. They need to be stopped and you need to turn to someone to help you through this. There are many people you can contact who will help you. It may be a matter of needing someone to help you understand what is happening inside you and how you feel inside about what is happening to you.

Just do not choose the option to kill yourself. Take away killing yourself as an answer to making the pain and hurt go away. I promise I will post numbers and other choices of contacts. Use them if you need help.

If You Need Help. You Are Being Bullied. Or If You Are Feeling Depressed And Thinking About Harming Yourself Or Thinking About Suicide. Please Do Not Harm Or Kill Yourself. There Are Better Ways To End The Pain And Hurt. I Have Listed IMALIVE. A Site Online Where You Can Chat With Someone If You Are In A Bad Place.

Other Ways To Help Yourself Through The Depression Or Feeling Pain And Hurt Is Through Creating. Find What You Like To Do That Helps To Calm You Down And Find Relief From The Pressure You Are Feeling. Please Contact A Hotline Or Go To The Online Chat. I Hope You Find This Helps. Just Stay Safe. Don’t Let The Bullies Win. They Are Not Worth Letting In. You Are More Important Than They Are. A Great Film To Watch If You Are Being Bullied Is The Movie “Bully.” Please Let The Good People In Who Want To Help You. Be Careful. Remember You Are Not Alone. We Care. Reach Out. Let Someone Reach Back.

The Numbers to Contact are below:
TALK: 800-273-8255
SUICIDE HOTLINE: 800-784-2433

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Please if you feel in crisis and need someone to talk to use anyone of the above contacts.

Aerosmith — Dream On