In the Arms of a Tatoo Chair july 1998 The needles sear into my back. The vibrations drone out the pains, but only partially. Each outline is drawn, with sensations culminating into a cringe of relief. Each curve, each line, and each twist digs a trench of ink into my skin. The feathers and wings slowly emerge, drawing out a phoenix, embodying the fire of my soul. My mind wanders to divert myself from the burns. I sit in the chair, and images flash through my mind as quick as each needle marks its point. It is just me and the sensations of the image as it emerges on my living canvas. Slowly we will become one. In time, when all else distant, it will be forever close to me. I feel its wings spreading, ready to soar into the unknown. It looks over my left shoulder onto my heart. Providing the protection for a woman who feels so much. Its delicate tail feathers embody the beauty of a woman I hope to become. The balance of grace and strength What will I wear, once my tatoo is done? Hmm... does a tank cover up the bottom portion?   paula alpha gamma aka hip-hop