Wordle #158


I chew the cancer beading

In your branches,

The beastly sycophant,

The unbecoming cheat.

I channel release

In proximity to fire,

An unrepentant muse

Leaves, scattering regret

As a giant spills lightening

From the flare of a nostril.

I contemplate poverty

The grisly depths,

The unspeakable choices

The compromises imposed

By her compromised identities.

The weight of impotence

In this stillborn catastrophe.

I choke the keys

With ungainly fingers

Tiny panthers pawing

Blossoming, alien flesh

Ferocious in exile,

I lick the browning blood,

The fragile existentials

Of a thousand useless clowns.

I do not write but burn

A host of infinite poisons

And potentials that in sum

Amount to nothing at all