here
are we
the midnight martyrs
masochating
in the mire
moored
amid the looming morrow
dimly lit
as dormant spires
wrested
of our spirit’s respite
revanants of ill-retire
masquerading ‘neath the mist
where misery
and moons
conspire
I Prefer Not To.
Max, or Not 
The last stanza…wow!
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Loved this balanced pair:
masochating in the mire (bending this into a verb was genius)
masquerading ‘neath the mist
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