the pen applies pressure
another pin drops
smoke-addled sheets glow dull
by the piercing
and this pill bottle pillow
will not stop depleting
falling behind
in my faint affirmation
felt quaint
for a time
ere the choice was enshrined
in the cistern that once kept
a lone shelf sericious
the everlasting symbol
of souls dispossessed
a relic
of semblant self-bastardization
now stripped
of its nuance
in white light evinced
burning sooth to the touch
like a trembling torch
treads the catacombs of consciousness
chasing each thread
to its one and only known end
like the sins sung
for higher
the hour knew
my name
it was he
whose idle hands and bared arms
bore me witness
and i
who must writhe
with forgiveness
Max, or Not 