Whimsical Flow

My name is Max-a-mil
I swim amid the swill
From rhymes I left behind
In times not powered by the pills

I live in such lament
So endless in descent
And when it comes to languishing
I set the precedent

My days are like a blur
My cats will all concur
That it is not from pleasure
But from pain for which I purr

Awaiting my demise
Through these tear-sodden eyes
With lies I must believe
To breathe and compartmentalize

Y’all can feel my pain
For y’all must feel the same
On one thing we can all agree
Nothing will ever change

Author: Max Meunier

Feminist. Ailurophile. Musician. Poet. Human.

2 thoughts on “Whimsical Flow”

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