web analytics

Sandra Jean-Pierre | Digital Artist & Writer of Words.

Tag: family

Disabled Chronicles, No.1303

That one time you were so hangry that you didn’t follow your own pill/medication protocol of cutting or crushing your pills before attempting to ask your spazzy throat to take deliverance of them. And true to form your throat spazzes the f€&k out mid-swallow sending you into a right panic because ALL of the pills (one aspirin and two gel tabs) manage to dam up in your throat tighter than a cork in a wine bottle? But before you succumb

Disabled Chronicles, No. 23847

Yesterday morning, laying on my left side on my bed, bundled up like a burrito: Me: Nephew! Nephew: Yes? Me: Can you roll me forwards please? Nephew: (Stands in front of my bed, grabs behind my knee and my shoulder and rolls me towards him) Me: (Begins to yawn and make this weird high-pitched sound) Nephew: what was that?! Me: (finishes yawn) Oh, sorry! Whew! I was stretching while you rolled me forwards. Nephew: (begins to laugh at me) That

Disabled Chronicles, No.514

  Having escaped the Second Coming of the Flood, you become hesitant to over hydrate. But as the day goes on, you realize that hydration is a must. So you mete out your water consumption slowly, to ensure that your kidneys don’t turn into prunes. As you finish the little bit of water in your first bottled water of the day, you go to reach for your second bottle only to realize in absolute dejection that your aide forgot to

Life Ways

My Uncle has a thick band of periwinkle blue embedded between two encircling rounds of brown within his irises.  Like the wonder of blue phosphorescence against the pitch black of ocean – it is all that you can see and all that seems to matter.  This wonder is curtained behind sweeping eyelashes set on almond shaped eyes.  His skin is a dark brown sugar, much like mine has baked into under the relentless Miami summer sun and my refusal to stay

  I’ve been feeling like punching folks. With my thumb tucked neatly inside my palm and my fingers curled around it.  As solid of a girl punch as I know how to do or that I’ve thrown. I haven’t of course but that hasn’t stopped me from thinking about doing it or wanting to do it.  It’s either that or my arch-nemesis – food. Either way feels like a lose-lose proposition. I have a beach party that I’m supposed to