Wordle #18 and Prompt #64


Wordle #18
Lace-adorned cadavers crowd
The mausoleum of my heart
Of all the lives interred
I regret most
Those who were never born
Not every dream has an echo
Some arise with sandstone markers
Declaring at once their intent

Velleity is a curse
That the despondent bare
Momentum is not the sibyl
I supposed as I quit before
I can impart a difference

The only habits
I posses disfigure
Each day another scar
Another wrinkle
Another cross overturned

I sit with my head tilted
Contemplating a more
Expedient suicide
When one views death
As practical
There is very little
Else to expect

My soul is a gaslight
On every face
A nemesis stalks
No one is ever satisfied
Through comparisons
And yet each day
We seek the tragedies
Of others
(Pity is a poor substitute
For gratitude)

I wouldn’t trade
Your smile for a smirk
I wouldn’t change anything
Other than to gift you
Unconditionally with love
To be and know myself
As deserving of reception

The media feeds us
And we consume that
And little else
If you know it depletes you
Why subscribe?

Prompt #64
Without you, life is purgatory
And my heart in comparison hell
I shall not draw another breath
Unless you first inhale