at last home she is extraordinary
she is invisible yet love is wormhole dense
i slivered enough in the threads of horror
i do find home while i curl up in tainted blanket woven from fractures harbored in lie anger shame and pain
it wasn’t long ago he said i don’t know where home is but it’s there in the crook of her arm
in a peanut butter jar after one summons the elation of the first bite there is home and in the spoonful there are pearls of warmth created from His breathe exasperated when the draw is taken never to comeback for some lucky devils home has always stayed betwixt the cut salved over by tomorrow’s troubles home is also in an urban clover a city dog a drug den park pigeon 5 thousand broken visions in a burnt down van yet he stands home not necessarily needs foundation you see scars are bricks of testament to the home that lives in us as we die of the fat of the land
©mbrazfieldm 2025
words less spoken 