I twist the plastic baptizing

Your impending disaster.

Bread or wine people

Rarely change but given

Enough altitude any man,

Whatever his station, can fly.

I lick your alabaster wrists

The graphic pulse sublimating

To a chaos that I will never

Comprehend through force.

I could devour you but the hunger

Would overpower my senses.

You are not mine

But only mine will suffice.


9 thoughts on “Wordle # 161

  1. Ha. I like the commentary in the first one. Plastic baptisms roll right off, and change is certainly hard for those attached to tradition (and religeon). And I agree, anyone can fly.

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