You Little Freak

acrylic paint and acrylic ink on 8 and 1/2" by 11" board. Click here for more information.

The Entryway Man

From "The Diary of the Titillater" (click link to read Entry #1)

Entry # 2:

I met 'The Entryway Man,' when I began to wonder if human beings contain passageways and portals inside of ourselves that can lead us into places we never knew existed. This rumination opened me up to a series of encounters with a man known to me now as a Portal Porter who preferred the name, 'The Entryway Man.' He emerged from the darkness to add light to my illumination is how I will begin to describe the effect he had upon me. Upon greeting me for the first time, The Entryway Man said this: "The Human Body is the diminutive doorway to the universe of the imagination. Won't you step over the threshold of your small, troublesome frame and instead derive insight and pleasure from your own internal gifts?"

"Hell, no!" I said ,while he laughed for a good, long time at 'this idiot's expense' (as he so-called me while laughing and conducting conversations with himself as if my apparent idiocy revealed to him that I was hardly even there) without showing any of his teeth.

'I prefer vodka or Jack Daniel's or the warm musky bodies of women named anything, to stepping over thresholds,' I said to him when he calmed down and sat down inside the opening in myself he guarded. He watched as I lit sage, forgot what it was then began to smoke it, put it out, immediately, then opened up my Bible to find that a trip to a rain forest over 16 years ago had ruined every single page.



This miniature original is for sale, now!

The Ballad of the Boy

On a joyride over the underworld
I brought a woman to an end
In her last moments of life she said she hated me
but in death she swears she is my friend.
She tells me we could have been confidantes and lovers,
spies, dressed as a boy and a girl
uncovering Mama Noir's secrets
and traveling together
over the underworld
I will never ride with joy again
on sad street
or through the other place
unless I am driving to be with my
lover, confidante and friend
the one I never touched before I
brought her to an end.


Tiffany Osedra Miller

The People From Over The Underworld

by Tiffany Osedra Miller

Those Mansions in Your Walls

From 'The Diaries of The Titillater,' Entry #251

Those Mansions in Your Walls

the blood in your high walls
poisons my base desires
making me reinfect myself
with what started the foundation
of my longing for you.
I travel through those gnarled veins,
chronic, chaotic passages around the bend
to where I ruled a world I invented
Terrible, Titillating, Totalitarian
to me as infant
then crocodile
tree, chopped down
then ripped into a page
of a script where I read lines for
the hunted, then the hunter,
preyed
then cast
against type, of course,
as predator.

Though I attended schools in mansions
I tended to you like you were all the weeds
of what I learned
about human beings
I branded with inhumanity.
I confess to seeing you as separate from myself.
I'd like to say that now, I am devoted to you
through becoming a devotee of me.
And though your walls grow tall as Redwoods
the ladders I produce should not pick your heart
like a peach.
But I am afraid I will always crave then crush you
for the rush of staring at myself in mirrors
falling in love with the image of my disbelief
and know that diamonds can be derelicts
and derelicts delicious.

by Tiffany Osedra Miller