12 weeks left.

Soul bruised, but she walks free.

copyright MB

Sleep allows all to be dealt with..

In mule trades- sleep helps cursing the shadow.- Apex predators.A war of a man. Unholy ghost like a father. Bone and jaw, he always wants more. Off loaded guts.A sinking tide in the higher fortunes of devaluation.
He swings, with teeth you do not see; Tentacles, manacles and chains- an echo back to a bathroom corner.

She feels the press of the enclosing cage. Entombed within a bruised corner, the hearth black and burnt, a sucking hole with both wrists bound.

The female salvaging part of me wants to speak. The scalded bride. She moves a finger. . One real point, a small thing. It connects.Woman vengeance in movement. There is again a she, and we the upright distain you. From here on, for comfort only your scales will be your skin. MB

Sean/Lines crossed/pre-mojacar

The blood and the due,  mind-meld stew ,stomping ground; You drip all over me, Your loss breaks my own, fusing imperceptible boundaries, you glue yourself on; all fission and fight, mixing my lines, the me in the stagnation of you. MB