Growing up, Mother changed before my eyes, her eyes so void inside, hereditary, soon to be mine (if not already). She’s carefree on days, so much different from the average… Abuse is a daily average in our home. All grown up, I’ve left home, substance is home, feeling alone, committed to substance, no feeling at all… Damn, what a wonderful feeling, so wonderful I quickly make more decisions. Negative, positive, as long as I feel it. My main attraction, main focus, main admiration, main distraction, main reality to no longer feel my main reality. Easily not feeling. This feeling I love for every day, all day, a feeling that won’t go away, don’t want it away, want it every day. It’s taken everything away; still I want it to stay. Over and over again is how this will play. I’m trapped.
Visual Art: Kevin Cooper, Women on Death Row: Equality My Ass, acrylic on canvas board.
“Women on death row are too often ignored and forgotten. When most people talk about death row they are usually talking about men.”