Wordle #101

She spurs nyctophilia
in the erogenous chasms
of her glaring tattoos.
She adjusts her nylons,
repairs the run in her heart
with blood siphoned
from my left wrist.
Her eyes lurk on
the incision, my structure
spills onto the tiles,
cadaver white with hints of bruise.
–
Love terrorizes as often
as it restores.
I am only a novitiate
what could I possibly know?
This eristic death may well be
my only life and she may well be
my only chance for intimacy.
–
Not related to the above fictional poem
I apologize for my absences and my inability to keep up with my blog reading. There is a lot going on in my life and without going into details I will sum it up.

The new course has resulted in less time and increased anxiety.
Husband is severely Depressed
Child is sick.
Child is experiencing trauma as a result of bullying/stalking and because of the boy’s ADHD the school is not taking any of the usual intervention or disciplinary measures. She tells me with tears what he’s done/said and than says but he has ADHD, apparently every time he does something it is explained away with his diagnosis and nothing is done (even when he hits). The result? She doesn’t feel safe at school, she is anxious, fearful, and very moody.