why can’t you
just fucking chill
you got the pill
you wanted
or are you just
a malcontent
intent
on causing misery
maybe i’m ridiculous
a fool
for fools
a ruthless martyr
charting maps
to places
which no longer
still exist
how is it
that once you’ve reached the goal
your whole demeanor changes
when only seconds prior
you were moribund
one might think you a liar
shamelessly manipulating
tenuously disingenuous
i trust
you see this too
with antics airing petulant
so tired and uninspired
it’s a wonder
how you stay committed
to the very death
perhaps the most depressing aspect
to your known affliction
is the fact
that it is written
on the cemetery walls
such a passe paradigm
maligns your inner beauty
nonetheless
it seems your duty
to submit to its behest
swallowing the flames
i ponder
why i wallow in surrender
knowing all the while
i am no better
than your worst
Max, or Not 