Haiku Review | The Sunshine Boy | a short film

HAIKU REVIEW CHALLENGE

The Challenge is to write a HAIKU REVIEW after watching the short film The Sunshine Boy . Feel free to write in Single – Couplet – Triplet Haiku Verses using 17 syllables per verse . Lines in 5-7-5 . Try to Review the short film below as close to your interpretation of what you viewed and how all your senses responded to it. Think of it as looking at a moveable painting.

If you decide to take on the HAIKU REVIEW CHALLENGE . Leave your Haiku in the Comment Section of this post on ‘the secret keeper’ . so others will be able to view what you have created. I will be posting my own HAIKU REVIEW just above the video of The Sunshine Boy.

If this film doesn’t inspire . don’t worry. A new short film will appear every Friday for you to try your skills at the WEEKLY HAIKU REVIEW CHALLENGE .

Here’s to engaging in the Haiku Review Challenge | Clinks & Cheers! – j.kiley

FRACTURED REALITY
by j.kiley

Bullying rosebuds
Mother’s love not factual
Rage ends in shots fired

© j.kiley ‘17
Haiku

Best Viewing Experience Open Video Full Screen

The Sunshine Boy | Naaman Azhari

Inspired by real events, the film explores a mother’s realisation behind her son’s psychological thoughts, moments before a tragic event.

Rating . . . PG-13 (Violence)
Genre . . . Drama . Action . Animation
Length . . . 3m 16s

Director . . . Naaman Azhari
Contact . . . naamafilms@gmail.com
Featured on Short Of The Week . . . shortoftheweek.com/2017/07/27/the-sunshine-boy/

Private Writings: Chapter #64 – “Got To Get It Out of My Mind”

private writings a novel of true fantasy by jennifer kiley [shawn's 2d blue name]“Private Writings: A Novel of True Fantasy
Chapter #64 – “Got To Get It Out of My Mind”
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Tuesday 3rd June 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT

Not Suitable For Children.

All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

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

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #64 — “Got To Get It Out of My Mind”

Tuesday 25th November 2008

Dear Annie,

I have written you a note regarding a brilliant young woman on a video talking on Bipolar. I watched it here at Redcliff Psychiatric Institute a few nights ago. It might have been. Time is tripping on its self. Can’t remember if it is the beginning of the week or just ending. It’s all relative, I suppose. I am including an attachment in my email. It may be too large. If so I will mail video to you via registered mail. I want to be certain it is received.

Maybe you do or don’t realize it, but I have been writing to you for just over a year. We reached one goal. You becoming my psychoanalyst & my feeling heard. You have motivated me to heal. Who would know that demons would be constantly invading my mind, my body, my spirit & my emotional state. It lives for lying in wait so it can shock me or torment me with uncertainty and lies.

I’d like to tell you about the video I am sending to you. An intelligent young woman talks calmly and with a depth of sensitively about Bipolar. What she says is enlightening and has given me more insight into my Bipolar and how it affects me. Most of the time I am not aware when I am manic. Being depressed and suicidal is easier to read but being high on misfiring brain chemicals is not quite as obvious to me.

Scottie is always telling me when I am being manic. I really am not aware of the racing thoughts rushing out of my brain. Subjects fly out of by mouth in rapid fire. When I am working, it’s not unusual to have multiple projects happening at any given moment. I thrive on the action and fly high inside the inspiration my muse is feeding me. So much to unveil & never time. Time whips by while the sun sets & rises way too quickly. Who thinks about sleep when you feel so alive and alert.

Anyway, I was just adding on this note to mention the video. Please watch. When I get out of here & back into my world & my life, things will settle down. Then we can work on getting my life back under control & try to clean out my life of all the regenerates who suck my blood and energy, leaching it away from me.

I’d like us to listen to this video together at our next session in your office. We can talk about what we both feel is relevant. It may actually help draw me into my gaining a better mindset. Maybe I will learn enough to help me find some self-confidence inside.

Once I’m able to get back into writing & painting, I will do better I feel confident I will recover. At present I feel nothing. No more suicide attempts. No letting people into my life who are fakes & phonies who just want a connection. Always trying to use me to get to Scottie. The sycophantic, talent buried deep enough not to be reached until they have another incarnation. Trying to work me when Scottie seems disinterested, or she just doesn’t see the actor behind their masks.

All those masks that the want-to-be’s wear. I have a theory, which will probably sound crazy, but I think Oscar Wilde understood it too well when he wrote “The Picture of Dorian Grey.” Many want-to-be’s are so diabolical, they probably do have a version of a Dorian Grey portrait in their attics. What must some of the worst look like. And I don’t mean worst actors, the portraits probably belong to those amongst the Great Ones.

No hypothetical conjectures on who I think are working with the Devil and living under the influence of Evil every moment. The rumors of the famous killing off fallen stars so they can suck up what fame was left. They bask in the Brightness of the Light of the Prematurely Dead who die under unusual circumstances, usually connected to drug overdoses. Don’t you just find these deaths mysterious and disturbing? No one will ever admit openly they are murdering Stars that once were or are now too much trouble.

Keep these thoughts stored in your mind. Think not that I speak from a mind filled with madness. That is another state of mind to store in your memory. The Original Star system may have overworked their Stars but the system really made an effort to actually create the Stars who glowed as Bright as a rainbow star high up in the sky. Today, we are lucky to have actors who want to act and do not seek the “celebrity.”

Celebrity is a whole other experience than being a Star. A Star emanates pure blissful centeredness. They are Pure Light. You can see it when they are up on the Silver Screen. A certain aura circles around their whole being. At the center of the Star Circle are the acting magic of Movie Stars like Greta Garbo, Katherine Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor, Cary Grant [has a European Delicacy, yet came up from Vaudeville], Humphrey Bogart, James Stewart, Spencer Tracy, the Barrymores, Charlie Chaplin, Norma Shearer, Bette Davis, Joan Fontaine, Olivia de Havilland, Barbara Stanwyck, Carole Lombard, William Powell, Myrna Loy, Irene Dunne, Lawrence Olivier, Vivien Leigh, Ingrid Bergman, Clark Gable, while Gable feels like he came from the other-side-of-the-tracks. Not sure if he did but feelings count in how you respond to your favorite Stars. She wanted to be alone, only because she was never left alone but instead she was constantly pursued by the paparazzi, however back then called the PR Department of the Studios.

I just want to concentrate on my art, not on the climbers.

I am so looking forward to seeing you & getting a long hug. The peace I find with you, sets off the Zen in my mind.

Hopefully, it won’t be too long before I get released.

I miss you & love you & need you now. It is so painful being without you.

We can talk sometime  after I get out of Redcliff.

For now I need to stop.

Love Fondly,

Madison

@>-;–

© madison taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

5 photo of white rose with red framed in blue

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

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher – Home to Madison & Scottie
Their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

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

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #62 – “Act Natural Be GAY”

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013“Act Natural Be GAY”

Private Writings: Chapter #62

Written by Jennifer Kiley

Posted On Tuesday 20th May 2014

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

Crypticistic Synopsis

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

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

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #62 — “Act Natural Be GAY”

Tuesday 11th November 2008

Dear Annie,

I don’t speak his name. The last time I saw him he leaned into give me a kiss. I thought it would of course be innocent. A male parental figure was standing very nearby. He could see anything if there was anything to see. My guard was down. Never expecting him to do what was the last time he physically touched me. It was inappropriate what he did. Some may think tame. I felt disgusted. It was a lean in for a kiss on the cheek & turned into a full frontal assault. He grabbed at my breasts with one hand & with the other, he had his open palm hard up against the back of my head. What the fuck just happened?

He forced himself onto me. His tongue tried to push its way inside of my mouth. It felt awkward. I pushed him away & laughed off his assault. When I left that day, years ago, it was the last time I was ever physically in his presence again. Seeing him gives me nightmares & I see him in my dreams. It seems I get regular visits from the undead when I am sleeping. And now I see them in window glass, reflecting back at me. it shook me up seeing her face.

I think she is watching me. Maybe it is her punishment for her unbecoming not like parent’s behavior at all. She must see how I have been since I have left them behind. College & psychotherapy have saved me. So has smoking weed. It calms down my nerves. Helps me be able to talk to one person at a time. Not one for large gatherings. More so now. I love my quiet time to write & paint.

I want to know what it feels like to love someone without ever having experienced any of the abuse & punishment I had to endure. Add onto the degree of treachery in my childhood, I am surprised I never succeeded at killing myself. Suicide is with me all the time. It may take time off for some quiet time but the depression and suicidal thoughts & feelings circulate my senses whenever I come off of a manic phase. Presently I am manic. I don’t get it. What is it that Scottie is experiencing with me when she tells me I am manic. I know what depression probably looks like. It is awful to feel it. I’ve grown accustomed to the music I want to hear when I am going down under into the darkness. The music is essential. It is my companion among the walking dead.

When I am not depressed, I do not want to ever die. If I could find a cure for Death, I would certainly use it. One exception, the pain, it would have to exist on a reasonable level of endurance. I would want to feel pleasure & to give pleasure. I would want my sexual creatures who spook me away from touch & hugging & kissing. It is not that I don’t enjoy being touched by a woman I love, it is my not being able to give the completeness of love to her or to myself while I am with someone I would want to make love to in as free a fashion as possible. I love the sensation of my body being aroused. It is the release that brings on all the problems & rejections & turning cold at the touch of anyone who tried to make love to me. Maybe I make love to them or I am just trying to bring them some kind of satisfaction, knowing eventually I will be a failure & the lady I have strong feelings for will just suddenly disappeared as quickly as she appeared in my life.

What am I really afraid to tell you Annie? Why am I hiding away from facing you? I know why. I have been pushing my physical feelings for you down. I believe I am in love with you. I desire everything about you. Your voice melts the nerves inside my body & I want so much just to be held in your arms. And if you would allow, I would love to hold you close to me.

If I fantasized on what I would want from you, I would say, I would want to love you. To find the formula inside of you to bring me out of the shell I have been trapped in from the moment the first wrong person did things to me that made me feel ashamed & frightened.

I thought the first time, he might kill me. I heard later on when I was older that some of the places my abusers would take me were remote. There were never any people around except myself & the abuser of choice my male parental unit would assign me to take care of.

He made connections using me. The people that used me sexually were important men. They had power. If anyone ever were to find out what they were doing to me, they would kill me. I don’t imagine that, it was the kind of threat I received all the time. One time I made a pedophile so angry when I wanted him to stop. When he didn’t I threatened to go to the police. They would stop them all.

His rage came flying out. He held tightly to my throat with his right hand & his left hand was held up to punch me in the face. I stood my ground as solid as I could. He told me if he ever heard me use any kind of threat like that again, he would kill me. He said that sex from children was easy to find. I wasn’t his only sex toy.

This made me feel sick to my stomach. It felt like I was going to die. I was trapped inside this shit by my own semen donor. He was such a filthy pig & still is. Now he’s just trying to steal my inheritance from my grandmother. No relation to my A.I. She hated him but had no idea what he was making me do.

I was a sex slave to anything he wanted me to do. And my shadow mother was the torturer. The two together made Caligula look like an innocent yet still a madman.

It was a true den of iniquity. No one knew what anyone else was doing. I lived in a den of snakes of the poisonous kind. The poison didn’t kill me but it made me blind to my senses. I lost the ability to tell reality from madness. What does one do when most of their childhood was filled with evil from bad men & women?

I have been working on getting better most of my life after 19. That’s when I started therapy & have been in & out of new therapists’ offices ever since.

I want you to stay around for a long time. I need you in my life so don’t abandon me. Please be the exception.

I wanted you to do me a favor. Since I have missed so many of the meetings of the new trauma group you run with a new therapist to me. I love her name, “Maria Garcia Falcón.” I definitely am going to be back as soon as I am able to walk out of Redcliff. I really miss certain people more than others. I miss you. I miss Maria. She is always so good to me & understanding. It really feels like Maria gets me.

Enough for now. Just please root for me Annie. I want to go home. My babies are going to be so annoyed with me, they probably won’t let me pet them when I do get home, just to punish me. No, they are not the vindictive types. They are quite Zen our sweet babies.

Love & Hugs
Madison
@>-;–

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

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

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher [Home to Madison & Scottie – their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

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

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #61- “From Me To You”

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013Private Writings: Chapter #61 – “From Me To You”
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Tuesday 13th May 2014

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

Crypticistic Synopsis

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

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

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #61 — “From Me To You”

Tuesday 4th November 2008

Dear Annie,

The other night, while I was writing in “A Writer’s Diary” a most bizarre idea occurred to me. Actually, it was two ideas. The first is not so bad to talk about. I decided I wanted to create a scrapbook of photographs of an actress I have a deep & lasting crush on. We’ve never met. I want to write her a script she would love. My fantasy is she accepts & I get to work with her. Running lines. Having her over for drinks, non-alcoholic or not.

I prefer weed to drink. More a sense of control. Your mind doesn’t get muddled. It floods out like a dam broken on a roaring river. All is washed away & awareness becomes acutely sensitive to every stimuli within my reach. But back to my ideas.

The sordid idea that came to me felt so freeing. I decided to created “A Writer’s Diary” that really told & showed everything I was brave enough to release from being a prisoner in the darkest room in the back of my mind. Mostly unreachable. Only set off by triggers from the ghosts that traveled the road inside of my past.

And now they are slowly returning with their stories of what they did to me. More like their lies & denials of anything ever occurring. I am only seeking attention. No one ever touched me. I have such horrible, brutal details from my childhood abuse living inside my conscious mind. Some get pulled back down under.

But suddenly they will rush out at me when I might be biting into a sandwich & taking a sip from someone’s sweet milky coffee, the way my male birth parent took his coffee, lots of sugar & cream. My good grandfather liked it that way also. When we would ever have lunch together when I was a child, he would always offer me a sip. He knew I was too shy to ask. He also would give me bites of the sandwiches my grandmother would make for our outings together. He had his favorites & I had mine. But my grandfather knew I loved the taste of whatever he was eating more than my own food, even if it was the same exact ingredients. Made no difference, his food always tasted better than mine.

He loved to take me to the stables & let me ride one of the smaller horses. I was so drawn to horses. They were my fantasy escape. I would ride off on my horse with someone, a young, blue eyed, light brownish blond hair, wavy & touching her shoulders, girl. She would find her horse & I would lead her to the best secret sights to ride to. Places no one else knew about. They were well hidden behind walls of morning glory & raspberry bushes. I knew the silent entrances no one else was ever able to find. Those were my woods. No one knew them as well as I did. I could run through them as though I were in a race at the Olympics out for the win.

Today, it is all so overgrown, one would need a machete to whack our way into the fortress, my palace against the danger of the times when I was too small to fight back. And there was no one to rescue me. No one knew. I preferred they didn’t. How would I explain what men & father figures, real & imagined, had done to me & would continue doing until I was almost not a teenager any longer.

I was growing into an immature adult child that knew nothing about life except abuse, hunger, neglect & sex. Not real sex with love & tenderness involved. I am talking about force. Rape. Having someone, anyone, I might not even know them but my father did. He knew them all. And one was my oldest brother. They would all force themselves on an unaccepting target, aiming with their pricks to score their goals & leave their disgusting mess behind. I was punished if anyone was not satisfied. You don’t want to know who or what the punishment was.

My secret for now.

Until I am able to see you, I really do miss you terribly.

Fondly,

Madison

@>-;–

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out

With a dream.

It is all a dream

In our own nightmares”

— Madison Taylor

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher [Home to Madison & Scottie – their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

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

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #60 – “Black Book Screaming In The Dead of Night

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #60 – “Black Book Screaming In the Dead of Night”

Written by Jennifer Kiley

Post Tuesday 6th May 2014

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

Crypticistic Synopsis

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller sing 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.

Private Writings: Chapter #60 — “Black Book Screaming In the Dead of Night”

Tuesday 28th October 2008

Dear Annie,

I’m not stupid. Sharks coming in close when they see the brightness of red pouring out of my veins. She has always been after Scottie. Me out of the way, Scottie is going to be ambushed. I can’t keep her safe. I asked Jamie to guard Scottie until I come home.

When I was talking to Jamie, I felt like I was stoned. I wanted to believe in the magic. All will be cured if I just believed. It’s not working. The feelings are more painful. I keep feeling like I am being haunted. She came to me last night at her usual time, just after 2am. That is when she was murdered. It was moments after 2am. The crash was loud. It sounded like death. It was dark like death. No sounds suddenly. No motion. Just stillness. Tosh used to be shy but brave when speaking. There was truth in her words, though few, you felt deeply, everything she spoke.

I have her feelings inside of me. They were meant for her. How do you say “I Love You” to someone who is not that person. We can all love more than one person, but only that one person makes you feel the love in the words “I Love You.” It is extremely intense and light blended together.

Tonight when I was looking out through one of the windows in my room, I caught my reflection. I looked healthy & fine. When I smiled at my own reflection, without warning, her face appeared. She was charging toward me. I think her ghost wanted something from me. It was a shock seeing those eyes. Mine were happy. I had a smile on my face until she replaced my face & body with hers. I turned away as quickly as possible, so she couldn’t catch my image & try to possess my body.

Why all of sudden are ghosts trying to get my attention? I love Tosh being around, but anyone else can go away. I never wanted to see them in life, why would I want them to come to me after death? Is it just to torture me?

Thinking of omitting some of the following content from being sent to Annie. It is too personal & way out of my range for embarrassment. So not for you Annie. Just for my records, to allow myself to investigate all about what is going on inside my psyche. It is so damaged, it is becoming difficult to sort out what really happened from what I thought happened. I am not sure if they are the same thing all of the time. Maybe my perceptions are off or the recording equipment in my head, my brain, my mind, is not doing a thorough job of remembering anything very well. The trauma beats everything out of the way.

It wants its attention. Now that I am getting under the surface, images & thoughts are floating into my everyday ordinary activities & pulling me out of all the glorious nightmares for me to share, at least with myself through my art & my writing. I paint them in the abstract. The demons always come to join me when the paintbrush is in action. I try to paint something innocent & joyful & it ends up having the external colors of the rainbow but what appears in their place is the face of a demon surrounded by the burning caverns of Hell.

I painted such a painting in the art workshop here. It has Dr. V. feeling disturbed by the face that appears in my painting. It looks like something you would dig up in a murder case where the body has been buried for a while. The face freaks me out. Scottie saw the image. She even thinks it’s creepy. I think it’s disturbing, when I started out by painting a beautiful image of colors & light. A painting that would make one smile. Now when you look at it, it makes my skin get goose bumps.

Dr. V feels I need to do some deep intensive psychoanalysis. She wants to start it while I am at Redcliff & have you carry on the analysis when I get back home. I do hope it’s soon. I don’t like being away from home. Now that I am entering into a manic phase again, I will be feeling better. I will get my weed usage together so I co-ordinate smoking the correct strains & combinations to help with my depression & manic highs.

I know attempting suicide is out of control. No promises guaranteed but I will make any effort to not try not to kill myself again. When I am feeling the urge I will contact someone. It was everything that was happening. That is why it all fell apart. Being raped & brutalized by a truly mad woman was too much for me to bear. I admit it. I lost it. But only temporarily. I am coming around.

I am going to stop now. Except I wanted to tell you I wrote a much longer letter but felt it was too much for one sitting. I will work on editing it down & send in installments.

Oh, I hope I see you soon. I can’t bear another day without being able to see you. Dr. V told me you are talking together about what is the next thing to do for me. Hospital are just too noisy & I want to go home & be with my family & really begin the healing. I promise I will put the rest of this letter together for you & send a bit at a time. Powerful writing & information in the other parts of the letter I will soon send off to you or maybe even be able to bring to you in your office again.

I need to go to a group meeting & that is followed by seeing Scottie & Jamie is coming up this evening. Alison needed to take a film related trip. When she returns I would love to greet her at our Chateau. Make it possible Annie, if you have the power to make it so.

Love & Fondness & Missing You,
Madison
@>-;–

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

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

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher [Home to Madison & Scottie – their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

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

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #59 — It’s the Only Picture I Have

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #59 – It’s the Only Picture I Have

Written by Jennifer Kiley

Posted On Tuesday 29th April 2014

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

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

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

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #59 — It’s the Only Picture I Have

[Starting the Sixth Week of Being Inside Redcliff Psychiatric Institute…]

Tuesday 21st October 2008

Dear Annie,

I want to think about Tosh this week. She has been with me. Guiding me, as an angel, one of my Guardian Angels. I am sending you a photograph of her. It’s the only picture I have. Nothing taken while we were together. I always saw us as together, once we decided to live together. I was too insecure to leave my home at the Chateau. It was given to me by my grandmother. Unless I am confusing myself with Carter McLeod. Thinking about Jamie. Can’t think about her. Maybe Tosh is here for me. I was meant to crossover. Jamie scared her away.

Look at Tosh’s photo. Her blue eyes see inside of me when I look at her. There is an immediate connection. This person in the photograph is the ghost who is talking to me. Tosh is younger now as a ghost than she was when the two of us first met. Oops. Did I write that a ghost is talking to me? I meant I am talking to a ghost. The reason I know she looks exactly like the photo, I saw her in the mirror one night before I was taken here. It was so brief. Nothing was said. I just remembered her photograph. Now we talk. I talk. Tell her stories. Talk about feelings. Life. Death. Her murder. Tosh told me it was her ex. She belonged to a coven who practiced the Black Arts, and  worshiped Satan, the fallen angel, the bringer of darkness into the world, causing Evil to spread like an infection.

[omit the following from letter to Annie. i feel kind of crazy talking about evil and ghosts. when i actually do talk to a ghost and have been for awhile now. they seem to feel safe around me. but feeling Tosh being close to me makes me feel less alone. some people can handle being alone. i love it when i’m writing or painting. or just doing something i am engrossed in. but if i start feeling scottie being gone. i miss her every moment she is away. even when she has to spend the day on a set near home, at the studio. i don’t understand why i use to freak out when i had to sleep by myself. maybe scottie being away so much makes it easier for me to stay up all night. when it’s dark everyone feels like they are asleep to me and sometimes it feels like everyone has abandoned the planet or the universe, a feeling like everyone is gone. they’ve all vanished. no one else exists.

my life has felt like being in a desert with no water or anything in sight except sand. i starved. that was punishment. whips were used for punishment too. she hated me. hated i was born. her husband. my father. she was jealous of him with me. she didn’t like him around me. i look back and wonder if she was jealous because she wanted me as her slave in all things physical. it meant eating. it meant sleeping. they yelled through my nightmares of sleepless nights. she denied me food as punishment. and forced me to eat food i hated which tasted sickening. i would gag on it. i was deprived of sleep until i ate the shit she placed on the plate in front of me. i wasn’t allowed sleep until every bit of shit was eaten off of those plates. when it came to actual physical contact with punishment, it was a scene set in the home of the Marquis De Sade. she has her own torture slash sex chamber.

do you think i will ever be able to say this out loud to you annie? you don’t need those images inside your mind. i don’t want them in mine either. i will have to keep creating my paintings that are possessed by demons. i see their faces. i wonder if they will look anything like the dark creatures someday. it always makes me think of the movie “ghost.” the dark shadows pull evil spirits into the ground, into the darkness.

i don’t think if you kill yourself that they would come for you. unless you were adolf hitler. i am sure he has a special place just for him – in torturous solitary for eternity. 

back to suicide. you know, when i was trying to commit suicide, it was not to be with tosh specifically, it was to cut out the memories of vile creatures using my body for their perversions. sylvia was exactly like the shadow in my childhood. the one who tried to kill me before i was born. when it didn’t work, she used me as her slave for every evil devotion she desired. i will never ever be able to forget what she did and others did.  i won’t forget what i do remember. but will i remember what i have forgotten? is it essential is it essential for healing? to clean out the disgust from the wounds that are more mental, but that’s not true. the wounds are from everywhere. my body. my mind. my soul. my emotions. they were all attacked. those unconscious memories cannot be removed.

i will never be able to talk about those things out loud. i’d rather tell you I am attracted to you annie, than to fill your mind with the pain from my darkness. a darkness that wants me dead and jailed in hell. i feel attracted to you and i am not allowed to tell you. i would rather feel those sensations than remember what a whip felt like on my back or breasts, tearing at the flesh, causing it to bleed. does anyone know what it feels like to have someone who discarded you from their body as a baby girl, turn on you before your birth and begins after your birth to torture you for being born a girl and being born to her, when all she wanted was males. i was meant to be aborted when she threw herself down the stairs. instead i was born late and she discarded me from her life for my first year to live with my grandmother. it was temporary. my father wanted me home. that’s when hell began and heaven was left in the garden where i have minimal visitation rights. this is too painful to be in this state of mine and to have her come back haunting me in my memories. i want to be with tosh now but i need to be held by a warm giving body. end of secrets]

Annie, I need you. Please, I want to see you. Your hugs are most needed at this moment. They are what cure me, a little at a time. I don’t want anyone else to hold me. It feels all wrong somehow. You don’t like me to tell you how I feel. Someday you will have to tell me why you shut me down from speaking about my feelings for you. When I can’t see you, it drives me mad. I go through withdrawal. My need for you is high. No one makes me feel safe the way you do. I could never live without you. I wouldn’t want to. If I ever lost you, I would want to die more than I do now.

Your letter from me this week is a touch short. I have been spending time with Helen. She has some of the most amazing stories to tell. The only thing that doesn’t work is she can’t remember who she is or where she is. She just wants to sit quietly most of the time but when I talk to her and sometimes I have Lynne join us, she will begin a new story, like her life depended on it. She is Scheherazade reborn. Lynne listened and I think she likes Helen. Doesn’t feel threatened by her or by me. I’m not sure why she trusts me and no one else. I don’t push her to talk. She likes to just sit next to me, really close but never quite touching. I think that works for both of us.

I don’t feel so alone in here with these two and one of the night nurses, who is great to me. She will sometimes come into my room, and if I am having trouble falling asleep, she will actually read me children’s books. My favorite is Maurice Sendak’s “Where the Wild Things Are.” Got hooked on that when a former therapist made me an audio tape of her reading this story and a few others. She gave the tape to me just before she took her month long vacation. Same time every year. I would freak when she left. Her voice on tape always soothed me. We recorded our sessions and now,  I got Dr. Seuss, “Horton Hears A Who,” and “Goodnight Moon” as part of the gift. Her young son even read some of the parts. That was way cool to me.

With those words, I am going to warm up a bit. Writing this letter has made me feel a chill. Like someone walked over someone else’s grave. Sending this email. It’s quicker. Think of Love. You will be getting my poem in the outgoing email. One of the rules on computer usage. Ciao Ciao.

Love Fondly,

Madison

ps. I need to add, Love is true when joined together by the heart and soul. I feel joined to Tosh. I feel joined to Scottie. I feel joined to you, Annie. I do feel joined to Jamie, too. Alison is my daughter, and I love her with as deep a love as the heart and soul feel. Such different shades of love. The degrees of intimacies as they are acted upon with different people. It is all love but everyone shares differently. Love and Happiness are living in a room without a roof in order to look up at the blue sky in daylight and the night sky filled with stars sparkling and the moon in its different stages every night. When I look at that sky I know all those I love will feel the connection when they look up. We are not alone. My feelings for you are growing and becoming more intense. I’m not usually crazy enough to tell you any of this. Au revoir.  pps. One last exciting thing, I started working on my new play for the theatre. Scottie is cool with that move. She has my new screenplay finished before all this shit came down. I already know the name of my protagonist and all the other characters having lines and good roles. Shouldn’t be a need for extras, I don’t think. Well, maybe in the background of certain scenes, depending on where they take place. Now I am stopping.

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

blue eyed young woman tears falling slowly down cheek

Tosh seven [7] years before I first saw her. We would have been close friends if we had met back when this photograph was taken. We would have found a way to bring our worlds together. We were destined souls. She is as much a part of me as I am a part of her. Our souls are mates.

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

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013le chateau de rocher – the haunting has begun

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