Wordle #150

Week 150.png

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.


Wordle #231 “The Fish in the System”


He loved her and it was enough

though society devised many methods

to prove to him otherwise.

His world was yellow and brown

sometimes he looked over the fence

at the teeming pits of AstroTurf beyond

and thought a little green would be nice.

Years passed like a sentence,

next took precedence over now.

And my god how he waited

trying to connect, to tell the tales

chilling steadily within him

but never speaking, dealing

only in salts and butterscotch.

Night applies itself

to such sinister ends

when first we tame

ourselves to pretend.

The day that he joined “them”

was the last day that he lived

and even she grew distant

though she neither left

nor stopped loving him.

still trying to get my rhythm and schedule down


Wordle #229 and Magpie Tales #298

playground getty

My voice has the power to disembowel

and I have used her, at times, as a weapon

though she has never served to avenge me.

The mass of your web impinges

upon my meager thread and we grow together,

spinning until our seams match.

The vertigo of my youth fills me with weeping

and I can think of nothing that would

account for this shrill blue sky and my terrible feelings.

Being blind for the people, by the people

I agree to adhere to the madness we have collectively chosen

though I do not know why I have chosen it

when I fought so long and hard against it.

My heart insists that there has been a betrayal,

that I am not fit to govern her though she is forever

in my keeping. She collides with me like a drum,

membranes drooling, I have denied her everything.

She wants space but I cannot give it to her.

Sometimes I remember myself as a child

and I wonder if perhaps we liked each other more

but in reality we liked each other less.

Until I am safe I imagine it is better not to feel.

We are never safe and I continue to feel

with fanatical precision all that is on offer.