Writing Prompt #119 “NoEnd House Part 3″ and Wordle #134


I can’t navigate

The humming inside my brain,

Visions swallow and miss.

My stride slips to the right

A poker lodged

In the base of my neck.

A red room buckled

Tight as a whalebone corset

The criminal exists within.

A full-bodied rampage,

No dignity left to smother

Just bottle-necked dreams

Stomped to bits.

By the grace

Of your heathen love

I pull away from death

In the final instant.

Whether gain or failure

We spend more time

On our knees in the presence

Of petulant idols

Than in the recognition

Of our own divinity.

I am a drill,

A dress three-sizes

Too big for the occupant

I am all the years

Cast into the graves’

Gaping maw,

I am grief and yearning.




Writing Prompt #117 NoEnd House Part 2″ and Wordle #142


A cornflower sky folds

Behind a pair of captive mirrors.

The first to arrive

Often goes home alone.

(if at all)

Struck by the indifference

Of my own meager expectations

I wait, a bit of flesh

A filigree of scars,

Graven by the same hand

Meant to erase them.

I chew my index finger

Off at the root,

A spare key furnished

Of might and desperation.

Locked out, noncommittal

My lone heart sits ajar.

I chase doors as they form

In the caress of your eyes,

In the scarlet of worried lips.

A room swarms with echoes.

I thought I could pack you

Into my open wounds

But, however deep, the blood

Always seeps through.

I carry your heartache

In my unwashed skin

In the organs

Soft and unapproachable

Like metaphorical fruit.

My perfect dreams

Unraveling in the wake

Of a patient nightmare.