I delve into the hollows ablating your eyes
Into the magniloquent breasts and the smile
Marinating luridly on your incomprehensible face.
The picture frame on my bed does not help
To recover your beauty, the reservoir
Where you sleep and sour, the sacred stricture,
The murky ablutions that eat your flesh
As the adhesions on a strip of filthy tape.
What dreg did you succumb to? What nightmare?
Tonight I remember only the horror,
The terrible grief, the breath-stealing punch.
What brutal tide has commissioned you?
How is it that you exist in this unfit world?
In these dark recesses? In this dream
Which is not a dream at all but a panic?
*
For
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/06/15/wordle-65-june-15-2015/