Feminine Strength

347e

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mbrazfieldm(c) 2020

the thoughts of the sounds you make your face in pain your eyes ash gray grow like wild honey suckle vines outward from the insides of my composting heart

look she says can i get a break today my blood borrowed by thirteen murder scenes lined up coming from my vocal chords ready for the gate to fall

i know the demons they feed well from me the prescription don’t eat before the range or you’re gonna get rotted rice and peas rolling down your caved in chest

the elders said before you were set free to the prison this would be caution daughter and sons your fathers were  heavy into maleficent fun be advised that their sins you’ll be liquidating

three six opened

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mbrazfieldm (c) 2024

three six opened
her eyes dewey cold across brow
another nightmare dissolving
the peace facilitated by round artificiality
three six rose
from the grip of lonely cold
the cat slept
nestled in the sheets quietly being
bloated eyes blinked
flushing stinging light out from them
three six returned
to the place of internal judgement
law of conscious
almost crying she looked around slowly
there is more
than the stark rawness of soul
somewhere is warmth
stomachs unknotted free from evil butterflies

my last one

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments
photo: mbrazfieldm (c) 2024

he’s in a little cedar box
with an American flag tied to him
she sighs through the cat hair
and dust in the sunlight of the room
particles dance float and flip
she speaks in tender fondness
sweet pink cotton candy memories
for my ears to receive
now their father is gone too
the remains? they will cremate
him soon
she ponders for 37 seconds
should they share the cedar box
then she changes her mind
the radio music pounds in fog
from somewhere in her bathroom
i don’t think the children would
like that
for my second husband to share
a resting place with my last one

intrusive

/ mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

i have walked in the magic and slimy entrails of the night you can sniff the carnage reapered dreams collected bodies bought sold butchered put back whole on the cool objective table of community tax payer yet the sheen and cigarette scent of your rugged lips captures what is left of my imagination the face ive worn the whole day through with guilt rage pain and embarrassment in the pores cracks a useless smile thinking of our bottom halves entwined twisted and penetrated in a vortex of denial and after all of these years that calloused touch of your hand intrusive through the strands of my graying hair

generic chp. 5

/ mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

it continues the heat the history slow as fuck although it was a good day WAR spilling the wine through my ear canals petrified by the bullshit of LA but i love her the only mother wife side whore she saint i could die for otherwise i too lust and look after those unwitting complicated boys of Porciuncula in my day dream i fancy i am like William Allen or Johnny R pragmatically im just a xitana malvivida