You tied the noose then left me hanging
You pledged for days then changed your aiming
You point your finger loudly blaming
You have no proof for what you’re claiming

Your youth is gone, you’re well past ageing
Your actions don’t match words you’re painting
And every step you’re proudly feigning
I don’t believe a word you’re saying

© Delia Ross. 2020

To be honest, I think rhyming gets me off. I get euphoric after I’ve pieced together a decent story. Sure, writing is hard. Rhyming is harder. But you wouldn’t see it that way if you saw me in a dizzy spell writing, sometimes pieces come together so quickly. Or the fact that I live and breathe rhyme 24/7. I think I might have an addiction, albeit, is it a healthy one? I literally write anywhere, and while doing everything. Sometimes I force myself to stop writing and other times I think I’ll never be able to write anything ever again. But alas, I’m still rhyming *sigh* and have been since the age of 12. I fell in love with poetry in the 3rd grade though, when I read an Emily Dickinson poem (I talk a bit about that in my thank you video on my Patreon for my patrons who join, so the video is still there if you are my patron and overlooked watching it. It’s been there since the beginning of my campaign). Anyhoo, sometimes I think I don’t have a drop of rhyme left in me. And then it is flowing out. In heaps. Like lava. And often with tears. My rhyme contains my soul. I lived in a very abusive environment as a child and writing became my escape. Writing was my coping mechanism. And still is of today.

My attempt at “But is it art” below… (but is it art was a saying me and my best friend used to say all the time when we’d fuck shit up. Like once, we redid a chair by putting our handprints in paint all over it graffiti style and writing “but is it art!?!). She died by suicide and I’ve never been the same. But all my attempts at art end with, BUT IS IT ART!?!

Bath + snaps
Bath + snaps
But is it art?
But is it art?
I nearly didn’t share this for a number of reasons. But here’s the thing, I don’t want fake boobs. I like feeling things. Might account a tad bit for my poetry. But for real, I’ve had many guys complain that my boobs weren’t fake. Had a guy break up with me in my 20s over it. And I have been peer pressured by society and men to get plastic surgery that I don’t want. I also breast fed an entire year, I have natural curves. And I don’t want to replace my sex organ with plastic for many reasons. I could have made my nipples harder I suppose, so hence ‘soft nudity’. I wasn’t trying to be vulgar or even sexual. Just existing in a hot bath and trying to capture my soft curves. Attempting to be artsy. Instead, I worry now my boobs aren’t sitting in their best, upright position. They don’t meet societies standards of perfection. I’m tired of feeling things though so maybe I should start getting plastic surgery and fake nails and fake hair and fake lips and fake eyelashes and fake tans… throw a fake personality in there too. ((Also if you’re one of the guys who’s ever put my body down… fuck you))! For real tho… desensitized nation 101. I’m not a model. I’m not a porn barbie. I’m a warrior poet, dig? Just trying to find myself and keep 100% authentic & real. I feel like I’m heading towards a dire ending like Edgar Allan Poe though. Cursed. It’s in our blood… I hope someone enjoys my little attempt at art in isolation. If you don’t like my body or my art, join the long line of boys who also don’t. I can’t be bothered with shallow waters any longer. Evolving into a better me slowly as my body is dying. Keeping my mind in a nurturing environment. SELF-LOVE.
The same vid as above but with different effects. But is it art?
I never knew how hard wet hair can be to manage when it’s this long and wet and also heavy… (no filter). I really wish I could upgrade and get some decent camera equipment and lighting. Someone join my Patreon or make a donation please lol I need new editing software too!!! It’s my birthday this month!!! 😍
That’s all for now. Can’t do much in quarantine. Trying not to catch the plague. Trying not to die by depression. Missing gig life to the full. No birthday gig this year!!! 😭😭😭

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