Depression

in other news

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

rain pitter patters on the window if i look hard enough i can see tiny cat nose triangles and pomegranate shaped paw prints and another angel died

the high school music class saxophone huffs through into my room and the virtual eight grade students cheap ass marijuana wafts in too while another angel dies

the mayor explains how critical the strain is on the county and how we hold hands and fight from our couch as another angel died

the smell of my books and the pills that i took colors of my mind are tired and somber angels dying left and right

ventilators generators procreators thieves and hope beauty mud Your Kingdom come and another angel died

and if i make it past this trip i’ll still click on channel blank brains and angels will still die

esta noche

/ mbrazfieldm / 11 Comments

rosewood arm wrapped tight

moon slice robin egg blue black freckles

beyond the shadow of the spider’s web silvery dew hangs

the heart stopped years ago so quiet it is the invisible steps of the spiders weaving up their net amplified in the violet breeze

my glance molded inside the grip of the cup bitter and heavy

life weeps through the slits of my old old eyes

breath too weak to move spider threads evaporate into a darkness

mbrazfield (c) 2020

held hostage

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

she’s here again vice grip on my chest black night horror demon waif starvation of my thoughts clawing on my floors thorns grow out of my eyes flames of peril dancing on all with illusions of lucid hell all the bottles in the world beg me to rescue them stuff my corpse with SOS written on sulfur stones of tortured paths throw me in the lake of fire fingers running on the walls 2 in the morning feeling lost the saints all laugh at my position i run outside the neighbor calls for me to come back and lock my door i grind my teeth and rockaby in hopes that this episode will soon become another reason to get high on useless capsules i’m prescribed by the drones of science

a christening awry

/ mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

in the beginning was the word
as i unfold beneath my mother’s water
there i am suspended
in the middle of my death
beneath the water
where the all of my love
must now reside
beneath the water
and i heard the wind say
twixt the trees and the bush
and the word was with Him only
then my father spoke prickly and grotesque a gruesome eye opening
black doves in the dream led something in me to scream beneath that water
when that something of a passing breeze separated from the flesh of me
it said that the word was God
and i chose to fall back beneath that dark blue water
while upon my dubious rising
my arms stretched out
to the sinking of the sun