Wordle #206

210

My bones crawl

The spurious extraction

Of clay from collapsing flesh

Leaves me dirty, empty.

My escaping heart cracks

Under the murder of will.

Your crow feasts

Blood as dense as grain

Blood splintered in

The calcification of pain.

A quilt stitched of veins,

Blue-walled and intrinsic

I seep with sophistry

And criminal illusions.

I chase the malice

Of your open interest

And we are nothing

If not inexcusable

Nothing if not deserving

Of the ache that follows.

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13 responses to “Wordle #206

  1. Two lines that really jump out at me here:

    chasing the malice of your interest – how intriguing when ones notice become painful, and yet we have the yearning to chase it.

    the murder of will, as well, is interesting – because without it what is left, no motion or movement beyond what they do for us.

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