Samantha Hardy | Mental health service

Samantha Hardy

Phone: +61 422 142 705

Add/Update information

Reviews

Tags

• Community organisation
• Mental health service

23.01.2022 oppressed memories We try to disasociate ourselves we numb ourselves, how many times will a heart shatter? We drown them swimming in an ocean of dead fish, fish that look bent out of shape. Fish shapeshift into Giants...they become little vampire's still they know how to suck the life from you. It's like a brumby that just wants to bolt run free. You can hear them in the distance, making their plan to capture you.. Last thing you want is to be caught , broken in, tamed.... You enjoy the air whipping through your hair. Like leaping from one canyon to the next.. Freedom, wild, independent, alpha, leader of the pack. Adrenaline courses through the veins, you love the risk. A feeling of euphoria. Like a fire burning slowly, only to die down to embers. You wait , bide your time till the next chase begins... That's when the burns again. Phoenix that spreads her wings and soars to the highest Heights. Only so I can see Your Face, Feel Your Glory. See through Your eyes () Hear the hearts .. Knowing that if I can make a small impact. I want the world to awaken. To a reality that goes far beyond a human, legalistic, religious mind. Enternity I want to spend it with You. See more

06.01.2022 Maya Angelou When I was young, I used to Watch behind the curtains As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.... Young men sharp as mustard. See them. Men are always Going somewhere. They knew I was there. Fifteen Years old and starving for them. Under my window, they would pause, Their shoulders high like the Breasts of a young girl, Jacket tails slapping over Those behinds, Men. One day they hold you in the Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you Were the last raw egg in the world. Then They tighten up. Just a little. The First squeeze is nice. A quick hug. Soft into your defenselessness. A little More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a Smile that slides around the fear. When the Air disappears, Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly, Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered. It is your juice That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes. When the earth rights itself again, And taste tries to return to the tongue, Your body has slammed shut. Forever. No keys exist. Then the window draws full upon Your mind. There, just beyond The sway of curtains, men walk. Knowing something. Going someplace. But this time, I will simply Stand and watch. Maybe.