Wordle #136 “January 2nd, 2016”

Week 135.png

I am insular and ill-suited
to the currents
of your impending bias.
For every occasion
there are equal measures
of repulsion and appeal.

The melody of your breath
is mislaid in my lungs.
We are only leavings.
The pitiful, the cryophilic
we gravitate inwards.

Do you mock the promontory
for its illustrious height?
Do you beg favor, apology, recompense?
A swarm of raindrops and two headlights
encroach on the darkness.

We fizzle and combust,
spells, bone bare
woven together
into prosaic shapes
china teacups and radios.

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