Poems from Ox-Bow 2018

Before Morning Star / Morning Star / Iron Pore
Pink Ice Cream / Fahrenheit 3000
A collection of poem's I nearly lost in a notebook from years past

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Before Morning Star

So dark, 
Forced solitude is lonely
I’m so happy, but it doesn't fix my brain 
I’m not pretending to be anyone, but then why doesn't it feel okay to be sad?
Calm before the storm 
Rain rolls in and everything seems to fall to slumber 
“My favorite game is Russian roulette… why aren't you laughing?” 
“I don’t want you to die. That’s why I’m not laughing.” 
Lightning in the living room

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Morning Star

Clouds make the sky the deepest black, the moon struggles to cut through. Despite the soft words I still feel wounded. I can still feel the screams, I cannot forget the storms of yesterday. I’m terrified of being alone because I know the voices will scream through the quiet and bring back the boiling blood of old trips across the river of dreams. Why can't I be fooled. Staring at an ugly demon, I’m a stranger. Are you calling me?

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Iron Pore

Delicious realms made with forks.
Fluorescent lights, they are the devil.
Blind Me.
Metal beekeepers.
Tiny dragon, fire is often blue to me. 
Sculptures are often very strong. 
Iron will spark back at you through the dissonance.
So hot and yet too cold.
Warm hands set on fire. 
Bronze can fool a man into believing it is gold so why can’t I?
Set the sand on fire. 
The moon leaves in the night, only the glow keeps you warm.

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Pink Ice Cream

Win $20 in poker and spend it on ice cream and laundry. Shaky hands, pink ice cream, paranoid schizophrenia. Spoiled brat, unlovable.  Sugar cough, toothache, baby bird. “Am I, dare I say it, romantic?” Life is shit but I'll always get what I want? I always get what I want, I always get what I want, bully bully bully bully bully. Masturbate to your reflection in a laundromat. Public bathroom sex, pass out, smack your head on a porcelain sink. Missing your last supper, washing smoke off your clothing. Isn't it lovely to live like this? Head-aching alcoholic waiting to pass out. I always feel like someone is behind me. It’s loud, empty eyes and empty spaces. I’m a mooch with nothing to give. I always get what I want.

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Fahrenheit 3000

The sun is setting 
But the fire only now just began to burn
I’m facing west towards the ladders into heaven I have no plans to climb
I’ve already burned down to the bone
When I left I said I felt like I was dying, I could smell the kindling under my feet catching before I even stepped into the fire pit. 
This blue heat licked me up over thousands of degrees. It only takes 1800 but I put myself well deep into 3000 and turned my bones to black ash.
Blue light and white smoke swept me away in the kiln and left behind something new. Like the glaze on a pot I have transformed. 
I knew I was going to die. 
I never know how complete and total it would be. 
Little did I know what would come in the aftermath Becoming something I never saw in the mirror, becoming a stranger. Lips that burned for lust, eyes with life, skin kissed golden, hair long and dark like the moonless sky that I have been born under. 
Dusted from ashes my angel recoils from this new form. They cannot love this new body but it will be okay. I have been reborn into love. Even without their guiding passion my new body is surrounded in love.
Everyone will love me mercilessly or fall in the ash where I died. This is not my will but what I believe will be true
I’m so glad I've died.