Wordle #133

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The rhythm of my fists

Drown the distances

Between disparate infinities.

The whisper of wood

Against my relentless impulse.

We all seek to destroy

The moments bridging events.

I kneel before the invisible

A precise hum to drown

The denizens inside my head.

Another hit of creation,

Another dose of detachment

Years of anguish emit

A capsizing refrain

And I am only me

Same as I ever was.