Cookie

I made a doll. In a matriarch destiny kind of way. Whereby creating is a bond not bound by the patriarchal picture plane. But instead, I gave birth to a son who's matter of life can not ever be questioned or debated. 

What a world you have been brought into little black Cookie. Where ever you go some one will want to sell, devour or discard you. It is hard to be so desired, commoditized and abused and reproduced. But this America, Cookie, and you must fight, compete and run to survive. Everybody wants a taste after all. So it is you who must rise like yeast. It is you who must be sweet but not taste the confection of objectification. And it is you who must run, run, run as fast as you can... Cookie Man.