Author: Max Meunier

i lay my head down

for once

and for all

to conform
to the forces unseen

and afford them
the will
of their way

i have nothing

to stay
their pain

for i am
nothing

the baleful blow
of black damask
again
has left us
worn and wanting

sifting through
our scattered scripts
for hints of reassurance

though we must now strain
and squint
to scarcely glimpse

what forstood garish

even more
do subtle passions
perish

in the rouge of roses

all-entwined
by strictured thoughts

stoically restructured
into mantids
of submissive mask

with solitary mandible

and pebble’s plight

tread head-on
into mournful laughter

after which
i do not know

nor do i wish
for more

than death

[image credit: Edvard Munch]

wontless
do the whispers waft
into our twilit sills

wrought with swaying
unfound merit

peerless ripples
drawn toward rapture

deviate into divineness

sowing weightless tapestries
of finite fates
so tenuous

as twines weaving sinuous wrinkles
born betwixt the burden
of eternal wax and wane

whence seen through
the unseeing eye

watchfully in pithless ponder

plunder of our prosody
on paths
where pasts did weep
profundity

muse
has since turned into prose

its sacred sentiments supposed

triumph we once swore
in visions
wakeless throughout wrested slumber

trundling
the sun’s refute
slow poring over muted snowfall

unwavering vows
burrow through
ciliced breast

tinged solanaceous

fragile fractals
found bestrowing

flashes in the midst
of chaos

suffering
aloft such strange striations

situated rows
composed of moted repose

frigid languor
finds embers subdued

particles of prisms seep
the pain staked with nature’s precision

into furtive crevices

transposing then
our timeworn trinkets
into infinite arrays

of twinkling
vast ornate escarpments
ever to adorn this landscape

waiting to one day be unearthed
so they may be birthed anew

once we will have all surrendered

to an end
thought not befitting

stewards of phantom perspectives

stowed away
’til hearth transcends

[image credit: Ephraim Moses Lilien]

if you sip fermented suds
profusely in a single sitting
then proceed avowal
of your presence in a social setting

one can only thus beget
a fate that will be most befitting
possibly including
any number of unwitting weddings

litanies of harbored loathings
followed with disclaims of kidding
rendezvous with mannequins
storefront displays of heavy-pettting

dubious abundance
of embarrassing effusive biddings
exhibitions laced
with histrionics amid wardrobe shedding

speech impediment prohibitive
featuring untold spitting
charmingly accentuated
by seemingly absurd sweating

carrying out any context
applicable to the term “hitting”
heading out at 3:30 AM
to buy replacement bedding

unabashedly revealing
things you should not be admitting
vomiting profusely
on the apple of your eye’s besetting

pandering to people
of whose presence you should fast be ridding
crucial factors overlooked
with neither due process nor vetting

utterly oblivious to foulness of one’s own emitting
warranting an ire
thus consequently of a misbegetting

there’s no telling what array of crimes
you might end up committing
staying home alone seems like the last thing
that you should be dreading

circumstance must not be left
to one’s inadvertent omitting
consciousness is not a game of chance
that one should be subletting

if there is a point
to which i’m most laboriously getting
why would anyone partake
of that which they will be regretting

[image credit: Louis Wain]

~if we could fold
into the sum

of some old grand illusion

bold as fools
and humble thirst

not plundering disperse
in pools of lucid
shun to ignorance

dragging our accursed rake
to rend the land
for commandeering

~if we took flight
as subtle songbirds
soaring on the wings of chance

what perspective we might gain
through glimpses of aeolian wake

ne’er again
a stranded string
of vanity’s arresting fear

~if we could breach
the great beyond

free from the slaking hand
of penance

vested by our own volition

vanguards of our votive’s fate

~if we took only from ourselves
to give to all
sans expectation

no more alms
of disparate well

compelled by impetus impure

-surely, we would face a rude awakening

thusly sobered
from unbounded hypnic states

our thoughts default

to vaunting
of our ego’s penchant

and id’s wonting

choosing to forgo consideration
of our fellow human beings
for the sake of ideologies

without resolve

reign long

omnipotent idealogues

o glorious petulance
regale me
indignant

persist with recalcitrance

overtures obstinate

divulge your denial

dearly dreadful disease

let us stretch out
‘fore this
unceasing obsequy

grind my soul
into artisanal loess

dare not confess
crimes deemed contemporaneous

avail us
yet
once
more

of

your

t e x t b o o k

i
n
n
o
c
e
n
c
e

stalk me
until i submit to your sway

or fuck it
just traipse away sulking

whatever you do
just make certain you don’t

for if you did
what was done

does implicate you

but even then
redemptive vies surely mitigate

i must admit

the mistake here
bears only my namesake

of browbeaten
broken-willed
brickled abandon

hanged by haranguing

omnipotent angles

and theories that query
these wrists
not yet slit

how verily apropos

no no, please do go on

acquaint me
the grandeur
that is my wit’s failure

immured by the pure
peerless
prose of your verity

where would i be
if not for the boon
of your virtue

doubtless
it is
that i have misconstrued

your resplendent intentions

and now, it is i
who licks dust from your sooted boot

how could i
have been emboldened
to hold such a notion
so woefully shameful

i ask now
what play must i make
to appease you

the rabid heat
betrays me still

uttering unspent tears

bitterly
through painted veils
that sting with heaven’s wrath

breaching
basin vast

afore voluminous

of vested vice

leeching life
and thought beseeching

parched

the precious cistern perched

beyond hope’s reach

at pain’s approach
precipitous

through parallels
scripting perception

truth residing relative

for even that which is

also is not

designed
beholden to it

beings
none the wiser

none the better

scattering to spread the particles

that speak of our demise

[image credit: Ephraim Moshe Lilien]

autumn softly falls
with dusky arms
along the sprawling desert

steady shadows
stretch across drab mountains

beneath undulous lunar fleece

peace
at last
returns

the valley undisturbed
lay brushed with slow umber

the tow of our loss

now a blustering aria

riding on the wisted winds
of change

footsteps
may never we furnish
to fill

giant then
as we have become

touted

in this tawdry place

no plea for purpose

born as we are
to belong

bare witnesses
witless to bear

through journeys long
we rediscover
freedom
was e’er in our hands

bleeding
from our faltering fingertips

to see us
endeavor
as ever we are

children
of uncharted stars

our hearts surpassing
time’s distortion

waiting
to again
forget

[image credit: Edvard Munch]

yeah

i fucking smoke.

how else would you explain

the fact that you’re still living?

i mean

i could quit,

but then i’d have to . . .