patiently
do souls divide
devised upon eclipsing faces
clasping
onto coils
collapsing
glimpsing
into prismed stasis
prisoners
of implied perspectives
wardens of a will subjective
wallowing amid the irony
subconsciously neglected
dubious
in their discretion
predisposed to predilection
pondering
when they will fall
from mother earth’s inbound reflection
writhing
through the undulations
wrought by mortal trepidation
endless existential crises
leading life to deviation
searching
for their own salvation
destined
for dissemination
any worth they deem
is but an arbitrary affectation
barbaric
by incarnation
paradoxical creations
bounded by the crux
that is the crutch
of their idealizations
phantoms
of a flesh-bound station
failed
by fear’s indoctrination
nothing
as it seems
will mitigate their wrath
of ruination
not even self-flagellation
could absolve them of their own sins
solely by the merit of the fantasy
of their creation
luckily, for mother earth
their reign is but a fleeting moment
far beyond the fervid fears
which humans are so wont to foment
every species truly is a stowaway
destined for torment
on the mothership of looming death
we are as dust lain dormant
Max, or Not 