where i go when there’s nowhere left


once my mother cut off all my hair because she was mad. i don’t remember why, neither did she.
she hunted me down with her scissors and mounted me in the hallway. she then proceeded to chop off all my long beautiful hair. violently and like a wild animal panting over my body, just cutting. i had nothing left, no feelings, no love, no mother. of course i hadn’t ever really had a mother and that’s why. she wasn’t safe, i knew that. so i then remember being curled up on the bathroom floor in a sort of shock, beyond fear and sobbing, beyond even her. she then came in all sweet and peaceful a little while later and fixed the hack job she’d done on my head with another pair of scissors, more cutting. telling me how pretty i looked. i forgot this ever happened after this day, that’s what the mind does when it must survive with the enemy, it’s mother. when i was 18 and wasn’t living at home anymore, scenes, like holy visions trying to release me, began to play before my eyes. how could i forget this, how could she do this, i confronted her on it. we were in the car, she was driving. i said, “remember that time when i was 10 and you got really mad and chopped off all my hair after you beat me with your fists as i laid on the hallway floor? she became hysteria, “liar! you liar!” she screamed as she slapped my face. i was 19. she then kicked me out of the car in the middle of nowhere and drove off. mothers don’t understand that children remember things, they don’t tell you everything, they respond to your secret sicknesses, they carry your shadow, they become it really. we’ve all been poor children, even our mother. that’s why she does it, or she overcompensates trying to turn hell back into heaven. it doesn’t work, it won’t help, it’s the same exact thing. i have lots of armageddon stories. i am telling you this because we are not separate, because god is real, hidden deep inside. where i go when there’s nowhere left. she’s says i’m a sick and disturbed person for accusing her of sexual abuse, she says the therapist i went to when i wanted to kill my self at age 19 fed my head all these lies, she says i need help. i have been alone since i was 19. no family, no one to fall back on but boyfriends. and friends can’t be trusted when the party ends or you get too old and broken to try to be beautiful anymore. to think about things like bikinis and being hot. i’m all cut up, inside and out. you know that. i gave up on being a female, being a person, having a body, finding a guru, helping myself shine, eating to be healthy as if i could ever stop the knife. i gave up for a long time on life. i had no center, only a fading grace. the grace that kept me here that i never understood, the invisible savior i could never find. once my mom had a night job and i woke up one morning in bed with my father, wearing only underwear. i was 10. that was also the year all the ghosts would visit my room and fondle me like i was lost gold. i woke up and he was still sleeping, i felt strange. i remembered nothing. this was only about a week after he yelled at me for not wearing clothes to the dinner table. i used to prefer to be naked, but not anymore. now i’m ashamed. of my body, my memories, myself. my parents would weigh me to make sure i didn’t ever get fat. they would discuss my body. i didn’t know how to stop the self hated from taking over. i was sacred and felt i could not uphold the position. i imagined i lived on the ceiling, upside down lying on my bed for hours, it was so peaceful and white, all alone way up there. my mom said i had cow eyes, that if my eyes were like hers i’d be prettier. i was perfect at school. my parents self esteem was through their daughter, me. because all i got was glory and praise. i skipped two grade and never even went to college. that was because my mom joined a cult when i was born that didn’t allow worldly education. or dating. or anything. i was a terrified, hard up virgin. totally lost and ashamed of my sin. deep inside. my mom said i was a slut. my father attacked me with a stick for being a whore with the boys. it’s all a perversion of lies. he was jealous. i stayed silent. too much potent sexuality to ever be honest with anyone. hide, hide it all and be good. pure even. i proceeded to become a loser at that point, gifted, talented, undeveloped and disturbed leaning on men. unusual creative artist men who only wanted a young mother with low self esteem. me. i never had children, i had enough. i went for the animals, they didn’t lie, or beat me, put creepy sex trips on me. they were all i had because i had nothing. not safety, nor trust. my dad would get drunk a lot, couldn’t face all those murders of the women and children he’d committed. my mother was just possessed by her mother’s demon and needed to pass that demon onto me. to this day that demon follows me, wanting in. i keep almost dying daily because of all this truth, that nothing leaves forever. not innocence, not men, not rape, and not love. not love. never love. love never leaves from the depths of some place that still brings light to my stricken eyes. i have so many stories about me, my brother. grief, drug addiction. suicide. god hiding in the scary shadows. god watching from behind. and that’s only my childhood. that was easy. unraveling and untying the black knot of mother, is the most crippling task of all. because she’ll never let go of your throat is the reason. yes my mother tried to suffocate me too. is how i know those hands of darkness. the giver of my life, she’s the one. a true friend is impossible to come by. but once on the rarest of blue moons it might happen. a friend dressed like a shadow, a friend as round as a ring, a friend who sits under the table, a friend a part of you never forgot. will come for you. death is only a word not an ending. death is only a door opening once again, death is mother’s mouth giving and taking the pain, the black in and out. untie the black knot, can’t you. my deep hiding friend. it means everything not just this. it might mean your parents fucking right in front of you, mine did. i wanted to call the police when they were in their room with the door closed because i knew what they were doing and it was fucking and it was wrong. i was 5. i didn’t call the police, it was a dilemma. i have had many dilemmas, i’ve been abducted many times. i have had many sexual trials and tribulations. i have been seeking love. inside wherever and whatever i am. to trust the untrustable human face, don’t get me wrong. i want it all, the softness, the breath that won’t snag. the comfort of being inside my less than acceptable sacrificial body. i want to be wanted for existing not for being perfect. i want to be understood without having to explain. i want to stop wanting out of my body who will also leave me. i want to not feel pain simply because i’m me. i want to not look down on myself for how horrible i must be to deserve all this. i want to believe that hindu gods might help me. i want to think it’s somebody else’s fault i’m so cold, but it isn’t. they are me, they are all me, and i am inside saying i love you. i always did.

sharada devi


27 thoughts on “where i go when there’s nowhere left”

  1. “It will all disappear” I told myself, this morning when I thought it did and it didn’t.

    Something else, I remembered. As soon as I woke up
    “Thanks for coming to visit. I shouldn’t say thanks as much as, I’m glad you came to visit. That sounds weird too. Oh, God.”

    Something else
    “It’s not anything you do, it’s who you are.”

    Well, it all comes down to the bottom, looking up. Whoever hasn’t been there are kidding themselves. It’s all very serious.

    We make it light.
    Hard heart like a hard ray of light
    In your soft face
    Breathing heavy for God.

    1. more is said then they will see.
      making light, making more light,
      from the eyes on her black face
      sound comes as silence and we
      know. we know death approaches
      in every rope of her hair.
      untie the black knot,
      making light from her body,
      the everywhere noise, the life
      within we must grip til the ending
      of time, eyes that see, also hear.
      it’s all inside so I know
      where you are…as god watches
      the light breathing itself
      out of the black hurting body.
      face her. Her face is her.

        1. hold onto what?
          me, the past or the future?
          now, or your fear or your body?
          and don’t say all of it
          because we both know
          that’s not true
          I am always you.
          Don’t forget me in
          any head ache, back break
          bone jerk or honey moon
          it’s all in the heart
          first and last…

          1. Sadness beyond my knowing,
            Is what I’ve been tuning into.

            I miss you in my body,
            Knowing. Known. In the dark.

            I reflect on wanting to be with you and sometimes I feel stupid, naive. I don’t know. It’s hilarious, like a fountain in a large body of water. I don’t know you as seperate- that’s the funny part. Then why do I want you to pour over me, philosophy.

            Honey lasts as long as moon light. It never goes bad. First and last, bright waves in a dark ocean, sound uniting,

          2. I was reflecting on every time I’ve died.
            That I recall. And I always started singing
            with pictures of God’s eyes and prayers of forgiveness for any unreachable regions, of me, the one leaving it all…and every time
            I went down, into death I got quieter, the walls emptier. My last death affair, I made no sound at all. There were no eyes of God.
            There was nothing anywhere. No sadness, no lingering, no man with a knife standing over me. There was a starkness that cannot be described. No tears of devotion, no mantra loop in my head, no head, no me anywhere.
            Just a vacant stare into her open body.
            I can’t say I know how big love can be,
            because death I do know is the answer and keeps showing me how quiet and fearless she is. It’s a mystifying scariness that is as hollow as it is full of nothing, and yet a something that we cannot live without. The white serenity of annihilation, so awake I knew nothing without even knowing I did. That is her body.

  2. Much of what happened in my family is shrouded in secrecy. I remember watching tv one evening, completely lost in the innocence of childhood and illusion of Maya, when my mother came in and showed a photo of a woman whom I’ve never met. I was told that she was having an affair with my father. It’s crazy that a single moment can shatter a heart. I wept with my face covered in those shards for hours. From that moment onwards I turned inward, even more so than before. When my mother would show me family photos of her with gashes running down the center of my moms face or pieces of furniture with knife carved indentations, I wondered was it the woman in the picture or a poltergeist. I feel like I was so self absorbed that I was oblivious with everything that was going on around me. In my 20s after experimenting with psychedelics I started leaving my body every night. I remember one night I felt like I was being transported in a crate on a cosmic conveyer belt. Another night it felt like I left my body and then left my astral body. That one still puzzles me.. Another night I flew out my window and dove underground to find these alien inner earth beings standing before me. In my ignorance of youth the only question I could muster to ask was if I would get together again with my ex.

    I live on the other side of the country away from my family. The consciousness of the West is my solace, I guess. But sometimes the secrets and the ancestral demons never leave. Finding a soulmate to be with is one of the greatest gifts of life but with it you agree to encounter their families demons as well.

    I live in Humboldt but I can’t smoke weed. The entities will try to get through anything. Sometimes I wish I knew the truth of my family, other times I don’t. Pain makes us creative. When I play the flute I try to remember the pain of the native Americans. Only then does it become genuine.

    Jai ma

    1. you’re always the best friend
      and quite aware of your own
      light and dark body of God
      who is in every poltergeist
      and in every heart.
      Love my self is yours.
      OM Bodhisatva

  3. Death
    Is there not here
    Birth is here
    Right now
    Don’t go there
    Be here
    Love is here
    Love is here
    You are born
    I am your sunshine
    I love you even when
    You think I am not here
    Remember me


      1. Sri Ram Jai Ram Jai Jai Ram

        I remember you in darkness and in light Kali Ma Mother light 🌞 Diwata ng mundo ng langit at lupa

  4. I was at first happy when I heard my mothers husband had died suddenly…my sister who’s in her 50s and her 18 year old daughter drove to my mothers house where I was doing laundry…the house was kind of grey inside…we sat around and talked about a lot of things…I got kind of irritated with my sister who believes you should always work to pay off debt and buy gold cause the shits gonna hit the fan…I’m not like her…she got her inheritance early in life and she used it to buy and sell houses several times to make even more money…she won a sexual harassment lawsuit when she was 20 as well…her daughter is an angel…very sweet with long red hair…going to college to eventually become a nurse anesthetist…her college is being paid for by her parents…we got on the subject of our grandma…and I said she really had it rough in the end…she had bad Alzheimer’s the last 7 years of her life…she used to love to read…her husband was a tobacco farmer in barnardsville who lost his leg when he was hit by a drunk woman driving as he was getting off a school bus…he was mean…and very particular about everything…if you moved something of his he’d have a fit…he was strong too…he once almost broke my wrist when I put it between his index and middle finger…like scissors…his fingers were…anyway she developed glaucoma and lost the ability to see well enough to read…then dimensia set in…followed by full blown Alzheimer’s…she started waking up in the middle of the night screaming about nothing…she ended up in various nursing homes…ending up in one in weaverville…and eventually died…I remember she couldn’t even sit up on her own…she would just slouch forward and mumble dream speak to herself…she had had lots of children with various men who were alcoholics…she would marry them first…most were mean and would abuse her and eventually abandon her…she did the best she could helping her own mother run a boarding house…mammy was what they called her mother…she would rock in a rocking chair on a wooden porch with a spittoon nearby…sunken white face squinting like a ghost into the sun in one of the only photos I’ve seen of her…it’s like they just had to breed just because that was clearly the only logical thing to do…because life just wasn’t hard or meaningful enough…and get extremely religious…go to church every Sunday…til you’re screaming with night terrors and dimensia…I became very depressed thinking about this…as this is what I probably have to look forward to if I live long enough…my sister looks like shit an is on medication to control what could easily be managed with dietary changes…she loves to hate veganism…she thinks we will die if we don’t get enough protein…there’s a lot of people like her…eventually my mother came home…with my uncle johnny who’s my favorite uncle…they found her husband in his truck…stiff gripping the steering wheel…out in the country where he liked to hunt…the sheriff came and got him…and took all of his guns…several shotguns and a 44 revolver…blow your head clean off…I feel bad for my mom…she’s 70 now and all alone…my sisters daughter is extremely loving and helpful to her…I guess I have to live til she dies…or not….I am extremely selfish…and I was smart enough to realize how fucked up life is…so I didn’t have kids…nor will I ever…maybe if I was rich…and had a hot wife so the kids could have decent genetics…at least from their mothers side….but nah…I still wouldn’t do it….cause life will find a way to curse you…and it always grinds you down to nothing…for nothing…and just because most people don’t agree doesn’t make me wrong…the ancestral curse goes back through the lineage…back thousands of years…not just my great great granddad…we’re all just stuck here…waiting to die…knowing…

    Om Mani Padme Hum


    1. Shane,
      You loved him, you just didn’t know how,
      to love you and that’s the problem with
      angry fucking and no self love. Pure pointless violence, the dead man with
      all the guns. To shoot what dear amoeba?
      His own…and you help people by your growing wisdom and they hear you because
      your light is glaring and vivid. This is the
      power of the sun 8 and mars, not the self destruction for no reason but gloom, but for light. The young boys hear you and their own hurt is healed by the exposure of poisons.
      So be the sun father Saturn. It’s your light
      not your useless death, your love is gods unfathomable wisdom that shakes us all from
      our sleep of denial, you’re rare and beautiful
      like the jewel you seek, which is you, your diamond bright love churning the death of the ancients who stood in your way, so I say, reach the throne.☀️

    2. Oh Shane! I did not want children either. I felt like I wanted to stop the madness. I felt like I needed to get my shit together before I brought someone into the world. I aborted when I was 20. Did not even hesitate. AT ALL. I knew I was not ready. Only about ten years ago when I started feeling sane enough at age 48, I thought I would be a good mother (after working through a ton of shit). But there was something inside of me that said “NO.” I have this feeling that I will meet my aborted child when I cross over. I want to honor him because I did not let him through. I did not want to have a child for that reason, too. If I did not allow him to come through….it would not be fair. Perhaps bizarre thinking…but it is what has felt real to me. I pray for you all the time Shane. Your name is in my prayer bowl on my altar. ChandraMa OM Mani Padme Hum

  5. Fucking really is the root of all misery…every woman that I ever really wanted to fuck was never anything but a source of misery for me…but I realize I am kind of an extreme case though…angels fall from heaven to fuck with humans…fucking causes birth….which is the first stage leading to old age sickness and death…hopefully there is no hell…if there is I’d like to be the one to give the eulogy…of every person that lived a questionable life…now you all can see him there laying in that casket…and I believe in telling it like it is…and having said that…we all know he’s burning in hell right now…just in case anybody thinks any different…you can be certain…he has been cast into the lake of fire for all of eternity…let us bow our heads…

    1. I am done with fucking. Really. It messes things up. The best sex I had were always with men older than I, but they were always unavailable. I guess MEN- O- PAUSE has something to do with it…and I am PERFECTLY fine with that….I have better things to do now. Sex/fucking….is a distraction. Hormones can wreak havoc!!! They took my mind and tortured by body….I would take anything…just to fill it up…. So many ask “Are you on Hormone Replacement Therapy?” WHAT? Are you MAD? Are you for real? Take a pill? or a patch? Seriously? What is wrong with going naturally along with the body? What is wrong with all these men taking the blue pill in their older years. Why is it so hard for the “civilized” to just go with the flow of life? Everyone wants to look young and hip. Women getting Botox or lifts. At least here in Santa Cruz the majority are living in the flow. I went to L.A. and it was SO obvious that the plastic surgeons are making a good living. (BARF).

  6. Nothing gets out unscathed~ until it gets out. I will send you some Light. I am still trying to figure out this throat lock nadi. It’s unraveling more Now. The little bits are crawling out. I am all that vocalizes in the silence, and in the roars. Use your weapons fierce Goddess. Your vehicles will free the torment. It all flows in & out. Release release release. Bones are stardust. Flesh: a wiggly covering. The soul seeds~these are our refreshments. Drink up. Gulp. Sip. Slivering vibrations raising up to remembrance. Is good to remember, good to forget? I fear my shaky memory at times. But all these names do not matter. They aren’t matter. As long as I spill out Om. So hum so hum so hum Breathe~ mother Light~ roar~ the rains will come~

    1. weapons and roaring
      I like this
      lions of gold
      and goddess thrones
      covered in red
      you’re right,
      nothing matters
      because nothing
      is left
      but the red
      royal heart of her
      galaxy, black fire.
      We don’t have to see it
      to know it because
      it’s deeper and brighter
      than eyes on this face,
      Inside her body glows
      like embers smoldering
      and covered in ash. ♦️🖤♦️

  7. I have been touched by the Divine through you. Your words, such depth….take me to my dark memories….where I have become friends with them. They don’t scare or even bother me anymore. It’s funny how they are still there though. They never go away. They just lose power. The light of the eastern sun shines on us all and helps us to remember we don’t have to be held down by the cold dark, but use it. But use that depth of pain to create and release. I have done my most interesting paintings when in the most pain. SO much Love here on this blog….keep sharing your heart with us…we need it so we can see our own heart, always. OM MANI PADME HUM is my best friend.

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