Wordle #196

All I ever do is write
but words can only
take you so far.
Sometimes the air curves
like a waning satellite,
sometimes it takes
blood even to breathe.

My intuition falters
in the face of my fears.
I have forgotten
what it is to be
autonomous.
Advice never comes
free of expectation.
How do I stay wild
and still belong?

I am just a series
of regressions.
Sometimes it takes
greatness just to survive
from one moment to the next.
I gave it all away
without a thought
as to how I would ever
replace it and I just fell apart.

Now you say to me
do it again.
Do it again.
Give it up.
No one gets to have
No one gets to be
Writing just isn’t
something that
you can afford.
Be useful
go and shine
someone else’s shit.

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Wordle #116

A string of staccato vowels,
a coterie of fireworks, a protean waltz
churning beneath my left breast pocket
like so many precipitous waves.
I wilt under observation,
there are too many eyes
in this room and I cannot
answer them without forgetting myself.
–
I am a dummy, a trampled wallflower
peeling my spine-prim as a starched collar-
from the shell of a walnut.
I would do anything
to avoid the strop, the proboscis,
the razor-tongued princesses
deadening in their conceit.
–
I am a well no deeper than a thimble
what I lack cannot be embellished,
what I possess is scarcely worth mimicry.
The stars lie down for me,
they beget me, how can I go on
wasting chance after chance
in the preservation of illusion?

Adolescence

The angle of a hip

Never meant to bare

Bends to the pressure

Of a coarse proposal

*

Youth is fire

And accusation

Indignant tongues

That evade apology

Innominate egos that

Borrow diversion

At the expense

Of their freedom

*

I claim insomnia and stress. My brain has taken a detour and we’ve not met up in a while now. Ugh I am so unhappy with this one

Clay

Being clay

I find myself

Responsive

To alien whims

Hands

Furtively press

Me into

Companionable molds

But I never maintain

Any impression

That denies

My composition

As a whole