ere the conscious mind awakens
lurks fate
long forespoken
oxidation creeps
dendritic
silent with besieging
a fool is sworn
to sabotage
of willful self-inflicting
and love begets
as many fools
as Charon reaps a sixpence
writhing
in the hidden realm
of nominal confliction
abominably abreast
of our impending
tomb’s inscription
such is written
on these walls
raised
by the very hands
we spurn
spinning
amidst mass confusion
to which one day
we shall return
earned
never learned
left to longing
sempiternal
[image credit: Hugo Steiner-Prag]
Max, or Not 