Writing Prompt #119 “NoEnd House Part 3″ and Wordle #134


I can’t navigate

The humming inside my brain,

Visions swallow and miss.

My stride slips to the right

A poker lodged

In the base of my neck.

A red room buckled

Tight as a whalebone corset

The criminal exists within.

A full-bodied rampage,

No dignity left to smother

Just bottle-necked dreams

Stomped to bits.

By the grace

Of your heathen love

I pull away from death

In the final instant.

Whether gain or failure

We spend more time

On our knees in the presence

Of petulant idols

Than in the recognition

Of our own divinity.

I am a drill,

A dress three-sizes

Too big for the occupant

I am all the years

Cast into the graves’

Gaping maw,

I am grief and yearning.