should I perish
here today
for to cherish
but the morrow
as the arrow
of our time
has worked its way
yond this splayed flesh
boring deep
within the chasm
spurn the chaos
of my heart
once a sanctum
of ideals
ere the truth
congealed its err
and its story
sadly stolen
by the whispers
of the wind
Max, or Not 
The heart, once a sanctum of ideals, now a story sadly stolen…
Loved this poem, Max.
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This is so good. Hope you’re ok, miss you buddy 🍻
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