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 Nov 2014 Maya Grace
Sia Jane
Asylum
 Nov 2014 Maya Grace
Sia Jane
It was in wander
for not lost was she.
It was in wonder
for without sin

she walked towards
the tree bearing
sweet fruit
enticing her forward

lust sent a lumber puncture
through her spine
upwards it shot to the
brain; cerebral forms

into a beating heart.
It excited her there was
such freedom found
in such innocence.

Pulsating quivers she waited
Adam to her Eve
daisy chains falling from her neck
framing a prepubescent chest

hooks temperately fastening
white knotted cotton hand sewn dress
virginal white
no womanhood in sight

Annabelle’s life, a melody of
melancholic cacophonic raspers
from asylums, former patients
of Briarcliff Manor

residing in her; only misery
innocent running’s from
grave dangers of
stark raving madness.

For, today
she wasn’t embroiled
as Arden’s pet
instead she was the little girl

so born to be before the woman
was stolen, bound by
a physicians sick
nightmarish re-enactments.

For, today
she was free
a starling, passionate
darling.

© Sia Jane
Briarcliff Manor is in Massachusetts and derelict.
In the 60's it was taken on by the church as an asylum.
In American Horror Show there is a season called Asylum.
In some cases the physician   -Arden, would carry out experiments.
Raspers were the zombie like "monsters."
Often innocence were committed and in the poem I am either talking about the girl who was before the Asylum or a dream/nightmare state she was in during the experiments.
Which is real?
Her being free and innocent or her being committed?
 Oct 2014 Maya Grace
Sia Jane
You told me to draw you,
so I painted your body in crimson & gold.

You told me to write you in scribe,
so I wrote you a sonnet, fourteen lines across your back.

You told me to leave a mark on you never forgotten,
so I tattooed your soul with tebori ink.

You told me to taste your scent,
so I walked down the lane, collected tobacco, & smoked a cigarette from your favourite apothecary.

You told me to find the name for the aroma that lingered when you left the room,
so I closed my eyes whilst sat beside you, & inhaled you like the cigarette I tasted on the way home.

You told me to image you naked, like Rose being drawn by Jack aboard the Titanic,
so I turned away, took a seat in the Cumberland leather chair, placed charcoal between finger & thumb, sketching an image of your silhouette in black dust ash, a memory that found me from when you slept beside me last night.

You told me to pick a flower that I gave to you the first time I whispered;
"I love you,"
so I wandered amidst the clouds & air of mountains far & wide, until I found the flower I so remembered.

In remembrance, I knew to pick such a tender delicate stem, petals so fragile they would melt in my grasp, the flower would cease to be what I loved,
for, I love you.

You are the rose in all its abstract glory,
you my dearest are no possession.

If I were to misunderstand such beauty, you would simply fade to exist,
so I sat down beside you, a painted memory,
shed a tear,
knowing this memory of you
would suffice.

© Sia Jane
I am sorry I am so absent. University is crazy and AA too.
I miss you guys and thank you for all the support in recent days and always ***
 Feb 2014 Maya Grace
Sia Jane
I don't even know what to write, or say.
And for a person who has written so many poems,
on this site,
it is kind of unbelievable.

My first poetry anthology, "Wanderlust" - Sia Jane Lloyd
is now available via Amazon.

This place (Hello Poetry) has given me something I could never return or give words to.
Such acceptance, courage, love, belief, determination, inspiration...

Thank you for making me realise my dreams.
I couldn't have done it without you.

I love you all so so so much xoxo

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Wanderlust-she-travels-her-mind/dp/1492952346/ref=sr11?ie=UTF8&qid;=1392582925&sr;=8-1&keywords;=sia+jane+lloyd

xoxoxoxoxoxo
 Feb 2014 Maya Grace
Sia Jane
Diagnosis: Anorexia Nervosa
Status: Recovered.

So my point in writing... am I doing this for myself? Maybe... or to inspire others? Maybe...
Or to simply just show and say, that I am through this. Through what? Through all that growth that you encounter when you truly engage yourself in recovery.
This does not mean I will not grow further, learn more. Develop and engage. It doesn’t mean I have been able to shut the door once and for all on my mental health struggles (I was trying to be as politically correct towards myself using that term).
It means, I trust, I believe, and not naively, that I have done the hard work.
I have stepped outside of the mirror.
I no longer believe I can only live half way, a half life, between sickness and wellness.
It means, I know, I will never, get sick again.
Many may laugh, or shake their heads at that. And yet, what I am writing here is filled with so much faith and trust, that I can be sure of myself. Even if no one else in the world believes it, I do. And I know it, because I have made a choice.
There were some backwards and forwards, to relapses and re-growths, but each and every fall, I chose to learn. I chose to take to therapy. I chose.
I choose life.  And so that means, the commitment to life, to myself, that I will always take the route that leads to more life, or to more hope...


And so getting well. What happened there? Well, after years of self abuse, of anger turned inwards, after trying to destroy myself in every single way possible... I wondered, inquisitively, what would happen if I used all I had learnt in hospital, all the positive energy directed at me, the words my therapist would say to me... I wondered, what if?
That if, turned out to be the most amazing curiosity. It is why I am safe, well, “recovered.” I don’t use the term recovered lightly. I recognise that my whole life will mean being mindful, it will mean self awareness, it will mean vulnerability. But what I am certain of, is that each year that passes, I grow and gain strength in ways I never realised I could.
I use “recovered” because I don’t believe I am “in recovery.” I have done the recovery. I have done the putting food in my mouth, consulting a nutritionist, the ridiculous amount of weight gain that allowed me to be healthy. I am done with the depression, the endless anxiety, the self harm.
I say “recovered” because as Marya Hornbacher writes: “I mean flat-out eat-normally stay-healthy get-comfortable-with-your-body-and-actually-like-it recovery.”
Few believe it exists. In fact, I was told my numerous doctors I would never recover. I would always be chronic. Sick. In need of hospital.
It exists. I know that. Because it exists for me.
Recovering has meant finding a voice, and using it. It means putting food in my mouth, it means seeing friends, engaging in life, seeking out healthy ways of coping when I feel overwhelmed, scared, anxious...


I live.

© Sia Jane
I wrote this 4 years ago, for EDAW (Eating Disorder Awareness Week) It is heavily edited, in that I have chopped two pieces which felt the most important from the rest of the story. Other than that it remains untouched. I hope this can help carry us into February and continue to raise awareness.
 Feb 2014 Maya Grace
Sia Jane
Under my bed, hid
a tendered angel,
who had
broken wings,
and she was,
terrified to move
for all she knew
was to
fly.

She sat,
knees wrapped,
to her
chest, crystal tears,
dropping to
her pastel pink
woven
and embroidery
dress.

She looked,
glancing at me
saying she
swam,
in the pools
of her own
tears,
and that she
lost strength.

Her endeavours to
swim further,
were stinted,
she was forced
to be,
parsimonious
and so,
she closed her eyes
letting go.

When she woke,
she found herself,
in darkness, only
the moon lit,
her darkened
space,
phrenic activity
haunting her
mind.

As delicately as,
my body
allowed,
I lay flat down,
so not to scare, her
reaching out,
I collect broken glass,
shattered wings,
bleeding from her.

(The angel was called Rebelle Fleur, she allowed me to ever so carefully, take her from under the bed, and to hold her, with grace and elegance, she lifted her tiny frame, and stood, without her wings, and ever so softly whispered her name, asking me to help fix her wings, so she could once again fly and be free)

© Sia Jane
 Feb 2014 Maya Grace
Sia Jane
I wanted so deeply, truly,
without words, a tune,
a lyric, or a song,
to be,
oh my dearest love,
to be,
your national anthem,
to represent you, my golden
note in the sky, flying past
birds circling our skies,
the stars, and stripes, the
colours,
to be,
everything that represented, my
commitment, love, loyalty,
the unspoken,
patriotic, musical composition
gluing us together,
devoted I fell,
oh my dearest love,
we were the one,
placed ring,
do you remember my dear,
my great grandmothers ring,
the purple stone, and how
the emerald would,
grace my hand, a signature
of love, eternal blessings,
the vastness of,
Great Windsor Park, all
those lengthy trails, deer
hiding, behind the lens
camera clicking, as we
waltzed down, our
imagined up isle,
who needs a church,
when we have, horses
that gallop, our capes
we are red ruby slippers,
clicked,
we are the two princesses,
without our, frog kissed prince
we have changed the ending,
curtailed the tale,
we have used our,
unstoppable
love,
to make our own,
day dream
(nightmare)
a true, match
made in heaven,
to only,
end in,
hell,
cursed by the power,
of the malevolent,

wicked witch,
of the west.

© Sia Jane
I miss a certain person who was my life for four years.
I think we were maybe always cursed.
All the poems I see are sad.
I hit shuffle for the hundredth time,
Hoping not to see the word "gone" or "pain" or "alone."
Once again, I am disappointed.
Yes, I get it.
We turn to poetry when our souls are darkest
To release our insecurities under anonymity
To see the yellow lightning bolt shouting,
"Someone cares!"
Into your darkness.
And this is all right.

But there is also joy in this earth.
There are weird moments when I feel happy
Even though I don't have a boyfriend
And my best friend isn't talking to me
And it's grey and bleak outside.
In these moments of inexplicable happiness,
There is just as much poetry
As there is in the moments
Of inexplicable sorrow.
 Feb 2014 Maya Grace
Kai
Strong
 Feb 2014 Maya Grace
Kai
Do not define me as strong
because I have overcome obstacles

A person could do a set number of push ups
but be as weak as they were yesterday

So do not define me as strong
because I have overcome obstacles
Define me as strong
because I could overcome them again with ease
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