How Can I

with time erodes the roads of hope
as seconds pass without distinction
wedged between the hourglass
in retrospect, a stranger’s fiction
e’er beholden to the past
shackled by fear’s ersatz depictions
diligently deconstructed
prone to dubious perceptions
doled out in fervid procession
sold out to our indiscretion
futures nigh belie the burdens
of reflective introspection
corporate chains restrain our choices
subjugated minds and voices
commandeering our convictions
volunteering our volition
fostering the hour’s dissension
lost inside our own dimensions
drifting states of lone diremptions
kissed by fate’s unknown afflictions
wistful days of rumination
stripped of our only salvation
dripping death with indignation
listless breaths of consternation
consciously resigned enslavement
viciously maligned by deviants
clamoring to hide misconduct
how can i but not give a fuck

Author: Max Meunier

Feminist. Ailurophile. Musician. Poet. Human.

7 thoughts on “How Can I”

    1. Jasper! Thank you for your epic support. Not just of myself but of everyone. I know that you put considerable time and effort into doing what you do and i feel absolutely honored and blessed to be a recipient of you kindness and generosity. You are a literary saint.

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