Word Games

I wish for succulent
juice – between fingers
(wet) yes wet
and crumbs
in our distant eyes,
giant moons – pulsing.
Oh, night
forever and ever
and ever endeavor (for)
sickly – new.
She’s fragile
and broken, (splintered)
molting fur in autumn
drips.
The dusty lips set warm
on the highest notch;
it tocks ticks,
counting
beer bottles on fences,
blowing songs – murmurs of
(faded) love.
Stringing words
of jumbled
nonsense escaping.
I distance myself; retracting
like window blinds –
vertical, plasticized
moans.

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