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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.
Twilight stars bright!
In the morning,
Shall they be gone?
I have hope
Morning of stars!
This time they shall stay.
two bare feet / drown in mud pie
floating underneath / goldfish glisten by
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’
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.
speeding racing
healing waiting
kneeling praying
sea is raging
given purpose
but still nervous
vision circus
with alertness
by SIMON
why is daddy scared?
why is a policeman here?
YOU… WANT… ME… TO… SLEEP…
I… NEED… BABY… TO… SLEEP…
why aren’t you answering daddy?
why is the policeman gone?
why did you move me?
i can see daddy
but now i’m not safe!
why is daddy behind the door?
She is afraid of the globe
But the globe is afraid of her
And she hasn’t a companion to answer her riddle
as she sheds tears upstream over sovereignty and reality
