Wordle #150

Sanity is merely an affectation,
a veil underneath which
the darkest shadows may pass.
I am just a girl, insignificant,
in the scheme of things.
There is comfort in
the knowings and doings other,
in penny-gush and reflection.
There is comfort in
the superficial and mundane
though I do not count
myself among them.
–
Iris assigns names
to those she does not know.
She gathers their ghosts
into sickly webs and sews
them throat to throat.
–
I cannot bear to hear
pretty words spoken of me,
labels are much too expensive.
I will not grovel or peak
under another man’s agenda.
We are all mutable,
beyond reason, insane.
To represent or to copy
that has always been the game.
I own my occhiolism,
my bittersweet nothings,
not altogether unlike yours
but enough to distinguish.
–
Iris assigns names
to those she does not know.
She gathers their ghosts
into sickly webs and sews
them throat to throat.

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