I Prefer Not To.
i suppose i once was young…
this tortuous compliance
bears no countenance
its innocence scolded
the mountain air beckons
its labor lost
of love
no longer does the shore retreat
divided by her polar pleas
steeped in what is known
and every step
a sacrifice
i swore would never seize me
entangled in her treasonous touch
where once i tread
with reason
diminished, ever more
than now
fornicators prone to procreate
are not inclined to wait
but maybe they should take a break
to contemplate the subsequent
unwitting fates affected by their urge to sate
their selfish need to sow their seed
of self-fulfilling prophecy
which is indeed, as such, contingent on their level of neglect
their lack of nurture and respect
and the forfeiture of any predilection to reflect
when they are nestled up so nicely in their self-exempting narratives
nary a shit have they to give
about the life that must be lived
because in their eyes, it’s more an extension of their awesomeness
not a valid individual whose voice heeds any consequence
which is like, why the fuck did you give birth
and why does this not bother you?
ah yes, i see, you failed to take the time
to think responsibly
and rather than owning the aftermath
of all your thoughtless actions
you find it much easier
to wilfully project them
right onto the very person who already stands to suffer
from your utter inability to think about another
there’s a grave misapprehension in regards to what is parenthood
as if it were an endeavor that was just intrinsically good
i’m like, EGAD! this shit is bad
in fact, i dare to say, the worst
there, i said it.
i’ll not be the last, if not the first
this requiem rests
on the shoulders of sorrow
tempting the bitter ledge
beating hearts fled
for its leap could ne’er reconcile
miles left untrodden
since martyrdom murdered a young man’s ideals
undone by the blind whims
of human hypocrisy
his only desire
would dissolve into daydreams
stranded on gossamer wings
with strings strumming
he sings
his abysmal heart’s phantom refrain
where the wintry rain
swallows his woeful chagrin
with two sixpence
to sate charon’s blessing
“Y” chromosome
why can you not see?
you far more resemble
a minuscule “v”
a majuscule “Y” in no way reflects
your number of genes in contrast to “X”
and certainly, size by no means does compare
as “X” is five times that of what you declare
as far as genes what have you sixty at best?
where “X” has a thousand as science attests
your content, redundant
to mutation, weak
with exacerbated rates of entropy
as long as we’ve possessed the ability
to gauge your small size you’ve been yet dwindling
why oh “Y” must you trample and pout
mother nature knows best when to take the trash out
when its primary function becomes detrimental
no time can be wasted waxing sentimental
and if you should find yourself wondering why you’ve been exed,
“Y”, some questions deserve no reply
when the hands on the clock struck twenty-five hundred
a gun did appear in my hand
i watched as smoke wafted
through god’s wincing eye
its canopy cried out rufescent
a motley procession
of soporose passers-by
gave pause
to peer into the window
like daggers,
their fingers did pierce the still air
pointing
with hushed presumptions
gleaned most indolent
my insolence dared me to breathe
but the blood was too thin
and its truth
could not answer
now it is
that i was them
a shade ahead
without a horseman
people talk.
i’d rather not
partake of such pretense
their scornful words and sentiments
present even in silence
‘tis all too rare
to share a laugh
not hinging on the precipice
through tears tinged with inauspice
as our solipsist release
forgive my unabashed candor
sycophants have burned remiss
but once a truth is learned
no luxury can disallow its visage
lest we turn our text of tenuous humanity
to barter
it is the ardor of our unwitting machinations that strikes my heart of hearts
a ritualized recalcitrance
refuses to read between the lines
i know this, for it hearkens from the pits of my own pith’s refrain
a hypocrite as far as i am able to exist a human
unaware are we
of the power wielded by our expression
a proprietary lesson
found on mortuary floors
i have heard the ghastly whispers
wafting through these phantom walls
in the hour of ghostly ire
impervious to my behest
spilling forth from frothing lips
my sentence e’er spelled out before me
here, amid the vast cacophony
of human sanctimony
what was it that simon once said?
something, something, now exist?
i turned around
and stood on one foot…
ran in place
with arms stretched out
reached into the skies unknowing
ate all my veggies
went to bed
well, homework was a different story . . .
more or less
one day, i was left to tend my own devices
but somewhere along blurred lines converging
i forgot the laws of physics
consciousness then spliced, divergent
simon’s orders fell to silence
maybe it was all just hokey-pokey
nonetheless, misplaced
i swear
i wrote you something lovely
positively apropos
i had the ultimate epiphany
pertaining to what should be plainly simple
all that previously had eluded my impaired expression
practically making the words impossible to say
all my past attempts
were pretty much pathetic preludes
sappy sounding
blathery
and bumbled like a barnyard boob
so completely obfuscated
loquaciously conspicuous
i hesitate to thus reflect
that you could still respect me
spurs a requisite suspicion
but i am more an optimist
than any kind of skillful skeptic
let me get back to the point
to properly address the paradigm
of my desired profession
would depend upon my referencing
the post-it notes i penned
please, pardon me
it would appear that they are in
my other pocket…
how auspicious it is
that this all took place
inside my head
Max, or Not 
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