Wordle #230

230

The scheming crease of your withered lure,

a smile sweet and vicious falters to the left.

My secret fear, the facts laid bare as poultry.

There is no stone past or present that I

have not wept over, no flood in which I have not

consequently drowned. How the extremes beckon me!

I do not endure, the stream erodes my sallow shores.

Lines spread across my brow, the incoming swell,

a madness that etches all that is necessary in me.

Misery is not meaningless, it is a way of translating

that which is expressively incommunicable.

I am feeling very gloomy, we are now experiencing the darkest days. My writing has been very unfocused lately I realize, I am just feeling off. I can’t really explain it, like a sense of withering humiliation.

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20 responses to “Wordle #230

  1. I miss writing. I’m envious at how you keep it up. Seems like my writing from a few years back was a necessary therapy that I no longer need. I do miss i though. I always enjoy your posts. Don’t stop. You have so much talent.

    • I also think it is easier to write in times of emotional crisis, when I am happy I want to go out and do things. I am glad you are in a better place now XD Perhaps try your hand at a prompt?

  2. ha ha – I love your bit at the end, about withering humiliation, I so get that! of the poem, very nice. I especially like the “smile sweet and vicious”…and your way of “translating that which is expressively incommunicable.”

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