i think
of this pen
as a crutch
to adhere me
to anywhere
“here” might be
fleeting embrace
as i flee
in antipathy
conscious abandon
to pyres of prometheus
fool
and his fellow
the pen
he will follow
with filial ardor
a prophecy poised
sowing parodied selves
by the math which was spoken
for then
it was them
and now
by the spurious path
of this pen
do i send my regards
to the garden
of eden
Max, or Not 
“I send my regards, to the garden of Eden”
talk about a magnificent fuckoing awesome brilliant way to close a poem. just had to like
LikeLike
Wonderful as always. <3
LikeLike
At least, you’re only, hiding behind the pen, and not hiding behind denial…
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Poetry Repository.
LikeLike