Waiting on the breakdown.From Greenland to Alexa. Self- Sabotaging on the aquarian stellium

 But I am sleeping in my  room again.

20.01.26

She is not here in any meaningful way; more like an outline that has gone too hazy, reduced to fog, and nothing lights,. The lines   phased out, craddled into  extinct, catching beneath the earth/dirt, deep cold   bodies, and other  obstacles of the throat. And still, The dead child is carried, like a suitor,  , pressed in snuggled on. Great cracks of fortitude, that follow  the knife, exiting from entry point to toe. MB

21.01.26

First offerings

She was a prozac kiss, moving within a frame,of oft delayed space, tight small pearls, over an under fascia tied too tight. The mask of hard small offerings that had bound themselves within the forced migration of nine to five. MB

Eskimo woman of Greenland 22.01.26

There was no justice or draw, only the maddening under-nothing, the no-words press of entry t Old bad lines, descending from bad to ice. And outside it all the murderings of the dirty man with fire, speaking fractures to the water, sending poison to the ice. Always meddling the elementals.  Trying to bend life against  time. And she a widow woman  carrying a life of one, whilst heavy with  another.  an outsider, not accepted, but unharmed. That is until Paulau  saw her with his greedy eye. And  in his hut night and day he schemed  within his desire,/ watching her, Carrying the last leaving of her husband. The child it's  fat fair  redness, an expression  that she wore with love inside. But Tupalaq Paulau, had a desire that was worse than any envy; and as he watched,  he wanted/ waited churning the smouldering fires of a love that was as blackened as a lie. Unseen, Stealing the small soft leavings of her entry he collected, little hidden things from her.. And so the soul moons came and went and, the sea stayed gathered. Paulau fashioned,chip and bone  till he had a enough of eskimo woman, to make/ a /half bone woman,/ of/ his own. MB

23.01.26

The ride

Where was the sky, did it fold as it surrendered, zooming , beyond a life, the small patterns of a world untied, that is how it was for her, a/ body, in an old shoe,/ the first/ black offering beyond despair, devoid, of the kiss that had been her everything, his touch -her glory, the places where they flew ,, Before the flood, beyond the grave- together they had made somethng bright and new,.. From where did hate spring? when did his name turn deadly, how did nothing but the bones of their  love now remain? When did those, cheeks, where she had  laid and learned herslef, become a horror?. And now? between the city, regulating the body, travelling alone, all hopes, fragile? Now- She couldnt even remember his name only the papers, and the signing  which said, everything they had ever thought/ best / about each other was dead.  But she hadn't been the first to fall, only the first to survive. .She leaned to the glass. The city  a drizzle, of haze, within a blurr. mixing and escaping along it's body, with the rest of the world, beyond  her in  outreached ill defined places,  and she outside the momentum of it , a distant observer carrying herself alone. MB