I shoulder the brunt

Of our reconciliations,

The impetuous monologues cast

To an irate and weathered audience.

Tonight tempest is a state of being.

Everything we know is either

Needless or sullied beyond lavation.

Your taciturn grin peels off,

Siphoning shadows of

Their metaphysical substance.

I don’t have enough time for conversation

I’d rather slice my veins lengthwise

Then contemplate another disaster.

Within our deepest reaches we find the graves of our ancestors.

So many impositions, voices cataloging

My every mistake. My complications

Seem so much more complicated

When paired with ensuing addiction.

I drink you quietly in the dark,

From one paradox to another

This is the shape of a loneliness

Built on materialism and absention.

Tonight gravity knows naught but repulsion.

I sense a Wordle in this poem or rather I believe their are some words in here that would go well in a Wordle. I didn’t feel much like writing today to be honest I had a practice National Prov in Swedish and the main theme was politics I am mentally exhausted.