38"x23.285" multimedia piece. Self portrait based entirely on a poem written and pasted on the large panel of the piece.
The Contortionist
I was a contortionist
Bending over backwards to fit into an expectation
Using my broken bones as a vase to hold her unblooming flowers
The practical effect of shattered spirit to crumble into a mold unspoken
Only to change when desired
A game I never learned the rules of
And in this game of twisting limbs I convinced myself that I was okay
Fine enough to say that I would have spent a million days with my spine a spiral
If it meant she would turn her gaze toward me
And say my name
My body became a blank slate for her to decorate
Skin stretched in curved canvas torso contorted to touch her lips
The stars I saw in her eyes now becoming the night sky silhouette I stare at in arc
An arch of a man who’s back inched into what it is with every piece of himself
He buried deep to be the empty she could fill with what it is she wished to see
And in this curling I lost myself and every piece of who I knew myself to be
I had bent myself out of shape and became a man I did not know
All of this to hear her say “I love you”