Wordle #71 “Man-Eater″

Week 71

A cheap geometric thrill,

The moon draws near

Mimicked in the carnage

Of an ill-begotten laugh.

No heart at all

Just a charnel pit used

For stowing future casualties.

My smile has been wrung many times,

Dirty rag, chicken neck, cathedral bell.

Goddess extends a hand, swan-like,

Nails chipped and smothered

In delinquent sunsets.

She speaks in echos, like a memory

Bracketed behind the eyelids.

Streetwise, my mind rejects

That which my body

Would gladly covet.

Ganglions stutter-

Refuse to disembark

As I stand basking

In my own creepiness

Ready to die for a cause

That jettisons all belief.