A girl stricken by madness.
Her petrous womb sags
In its crinoline cage,
In a scorn emboldened
Not by merit but by ornamentation.
She is fragile, beautiful
A lily amongst swine.
–
She is only twenty-three
Driven by chaos
And condensation,
Tears occupy the gist
Of her feverish youth.
She is a belljar,
Full of vinegar
And disparate parts.
–
Her fertile heart siphons exaggeration,
Men with complications and courtesies
Men in white coats and paper shoes
Accessible but inscrutable
Like a needle’s grinning eye.
–
A jaundiced darkness sups
At her brazen dreams.
Voices tumble in from the vents,
Shrill and unmanageable.
She listens through osmosis,
Vague and patient.
They bury her in a blanket
Starched to parchment,
Her cracked lips shucking
A licentious moon.
For
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/08/17/wordle-74-august-17-2015%E2%80%B3/
mindlovemisery 