To Warm a Galaxy

Honey-colored heaps
    hide under cotton.

 Empty triangles fall up.

 Sunrise fades to a glassy voice
    piercing cold air,
    until warm toes
    wink into the void.

I’m so happy that Dave found my blue notebook from Dec/Jan psyc ward. I found this poem dated 23 December 2020.

Cradle

Drawing of two little pyromaniac goblin boys with burning fingers
pencilled, then digitally painted
Please note, I was in the psyc ward with mania when I penciled this and wrote this poem. It still means something to me, but please interpret it as an art communication when I'm not doing well. I rarely create art any other time-- too depressed and/or unmotivated.

he climbs to the attic / he glides up the stairs / each step falling behind him

matches are in his trousers / dripping with fuel of past hurt / the chill cannot put it out

‘i peed in my bed / it smells so rotten / please help me be clean’

the smoke meets the small cradle / since combustion has begun / spraying water won’t stop it

the big boy meets his little / he is embracing his boy / while he shakes away others

‘i love all your sparks / ashes make me dry / we are dead and pale’

while he squats in their coffin / he drapes his love in corpses / the lid is closed to adults

the clean air becomes filthy / as he leaves the pure behind / his child will breathe through cotton

‘set fire to this place / drop your flames down here / hide your light in dark’

handsome boy clutches blankie / his other hand his cinders / it’s for his boyfriend alone

licking up his foot to chest / burning up the little friend / dripping down into his mouth

‘carve my dead body / drag your razor blade / toss my bandages’

he will capture his small haunt / he will give him what he asks / releasing the ghost from him

he slobbers at the toilet / pressed to his bloating belly / his mouth is closed and silent

‘one two three open / here’s my sweaty sock / lock the bolt my love’

Ashes of Sin

Ink drawing of a boy inspired by Prescott the bastard from The Childhood of a Leader
The boy in this drawing is inspired by Prescott from The Childhood of a Leader (2015)

The boy in this drawing is inspired by Prescott the bastard from The Childhood of a Leader (2015)

“Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.” (James 1:15)

Please feel free to download this image if you’d like to color it.

I have become cumbersome

Cumbersome
Seven Mary Three
 
She calls me Goliath and I wear the David mask
I guess the stones are coming too fast for her now
You know I’d like to believe this nervousness will pass
All the stones that are thrown are building up a wall
 
I have become cumbersome to this world
I have become cumbersome to my girl
 
Creepy memorial photo of a boy with open daguerreotypes in his lap. This is not a post mortem photo.
Image credit: “boy with open daguerreotypes in his lap. As creepy as this looks, this isn’t a post mortem… but very likely a memorial photo” https://www.facebook.com/Thanatos.net/
 
 
I’d like to believe we could reconcile the past
Resurrect those bridges with an ancient glance
But my old stone face can’t seem to bring her down
She remembers bridges, burns them to the ground
 
I have become cumbersome to this world
I have become cumbersome to my girl
 
Too heavy too light, too black or too white, too wrong or too right, today or
Tonight
Cumbersome
Too rich or too poor, she’s wanting me less and I’m wanting her more
The bitter taste is cumbersome
 
There is a balance between two worlds
One with an arrow and a cross
Regardless of the balance life has become
Cumbersome
 
Too heavy too light, too black or too white, too wrong or too right, today or
Tonight
Cumbersome
Too rich or too poor, she’s wanting me less and I’m wanting her more
The bitter taste is cumbersome
 
No, yeah I know now, know
Know now, know yeah
Your life has become cumbersome
 
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Jason Pollock / Jason Ross
Cumbersome lyrics © BMG Rights Management

Seven of Nine’s Lament

Filtered photo of Annika Hansen as Seven of Nine
Derivative of: http://www.startrek.com/article/star-trek-101-seven-of-nine

Voices of the hive
Crimes from my past

Stare at my markings
I was only six
Ravished and assimilated

Now do it again
With your mess hall talk
Your voices and my solitude
I’m not contagious!
All of you, so normal

And my son had to die.

A human child
I was only six
Raped of self

Now do it again
With your mess hall games
Dialog is broken
You fear me
All of you, so normal

And my son had to die.


Crew at the mess hall:

You cancel my humanity
Yet granting guilt, shame, and remorse

I am alone and dreaming aliens

But you are erratic. Conflicted.
What are your intentions?
My humanity is lost.

I don’t wear your uniform. I have no quarters.

I have no lover.

And My Son had to die.

madness

speeding racing
healing waiting
kneeling praying
sea is raging

given purpose
but still nervous
vision circus
with alertness