Wordle #145 “March 6th, 2017″

Week 145

Where do we stand
when the ground beneath
fails to convey us?

Without filter
your exotic eyes burn
into my soul’s ellipses.
Two-cornered and primitive
I rage against the rictus
of my own mispronounced smile.

That I possessed your longanimity
I might recover, steady and triumphant
but beneath the clock’s beguiling noise
I fold myself into fetal crescents.

The jailer within me cringes
with afflatus, emeralds brace themselves
and are born into a swarm of pasty stars.

I back away slowly from the ledge
invisible and momentous
I take your hands among others
and begin the long journey home.


Wordle #18 and Prompt #64


Wordle #18
Lace-adorned cadavers crowd
The mausoleum of my heart
Of all the lives interred
I regret most
Those who were never born
Not every dream has an echo
Some arise with sandstone markers
Declaring at once their intent

Velleity is a curse
That the despondent bare
Momentum is not the sibyl
I supposed as I quit before
I can impart a difference

The only habits
I posses disfigure
Each day another scar
Another wrinkle
Another cross overturned

I sit with my head tilted
Contemplating a more
Expedient suicide
When one views death
As practical
There is very little
Else to expect

My soul is a gaslight
On every face
A nemesis stalks
No one is ever satisfied
Through comparisons
And yet each day
We seek the tragedies
Of others
(Pity is a poor substitute
For gratitude)

I wouldn’t trade
Your smile for a smirk
I wouldn’t change anything
Other than to gift you
Unconditionally with love
To be and know myself
As deserving of reception

The media feeds us
And we consume that
And little else
If you know it depletes you
Why subscribe?

Prompt #64
Without you, life is purgatory
And my heart in comparison hell
I shall not draw another breath
Unless you first inhale



Elena Gallotta

My heart by the hour divides

An embryonic fugitive

Undulating in amniotic tides

There’s no label more definitive

Than the blood underneath my nails

The struggle for survival

Or just affirmation belittles daily

I never wanted to be

One of those worth-less girls

Knees to the pavement begging

To be freed my existence

But here I am just the same


Micropoetry (4 Attempts) possibly triggering



The apple’s venom curdles

The milk of my sclera

The tragedy of Eden

Survives in proximity


You nurse the speculum deeper

Widening the pocket of my shame

Every cell has been categorized

The verdict stands: Abnormal


I will be forgotten

I will be forgotten

Please forget me

Forget that I lived

How I died

Forget all that I was

And all that I lacked


Every effort I make

Is met with violent effect

Invitation rescinded

Even my prayers

Have teeth


Right now I feel like the universe is kicking me repeatedly in the face. #2 is not to be taken literally