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.