Wordle #107

Week 107
A marrowbone held between
the thumb and forefinger
a greasy, conspicuous feast.
Cryptic smiles-crescents
riven and audacious.
There’s too much horror
for this to be wonder.

My soul is crooked,
it dances on the edge
self-emulating, a collision
of contusions and scars.
I want to drink of your kuebiko
like deliquesced pearls,
to find beauty in your shame
and your ugliness so I can go on
loving you without pretext.

My yellow face collapses
into a million filaments
useless and diabolical
these holes
intended for shade
are only graves.

The lead in your black veins boils,
an enticement to voyeurism
a need for vitriol, the same need
that condenses all suffering
into labels of convenience.

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9 responses to “Wordle #107

  1. “I want to drink of your kuebiko
    like deliquesced pearls,
    to find beauty in your shame
    and your ugliness so I can go on
    loving you without pretext.” – beautiful!

  2. woof – and ooph …. I’m still digesting this piece – great – actually amazing use of the wordle … and the essence of wanting to …. what’s the word …. almost emasculate oneself in order to be someone’s violence, sense of shame, guilt, in search of understanding, to bridge a connection, even in self-destruction ….. well, that’s how I’ve interpreted this …..

    Very powerfully written Yves 🙂

  3. It’s no wonder you’re always depressed. You’re a genius, which basically means you’re completely alone. Except for when you’re strolling along with me. 😉 … I always find your dark grotesquery to have the most captivating sexual undertones. … I will come back in a bit, when I’m not on my phone, and tell you which are my favorite lines.

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