Author: Max Meunier

what have i to offer
but a meager mote of self-expression
remnants of a tortured mind
afflicted by a deep depression
thoughts i harvest in the twilight hours
born of dissociation
frantically expelled to quell these flights
of forlorn contemplation
ceaseless thoughts are wont to inundate
this restive mind’s obsession
woven of a tapestry of lost emotions coalescing
consequently baring far more than i might care to divulge
however, i will state emphatically
mine eye doth spy the bulge
honestly, i jest, for i am nothing but a human being
therefore, i’ve no predilection
per se, presaging the beating
of my weary seraphim seed shaped source of vermillion verve
which haplessly doth rattle in its calcitrated sentence served
dare not scoff for you must understand my state of staunch awareness
as pertaining to the nomenclature of the words i express
though, were we to meet in person
you might think i had been bludgeoned
stuffed into an oaken barrel left to ferment in an oven
for you see, my manner of speech
sourced directly from my mouth
indubitably instilss those who bear witness the gravest doubts
for i can scarcely muster by the most modest consideration
any eloquent coherent linguistic articulation
typically, i seem to warrant guffawing befuddlement
which is to say the kinder of responsive social sentiment
surely, you must think me to excessively exaggerate
when waxing on the foibles of how feebly i confabulate
incidentally, i was just now stricken with a thought tangential
as pertaining to the displeasure which airs most evidential
shouldst i catch an errant verse containing ‘words’ like ~conversate~
for such transgressions against proper grammar mine ire shan’t abate
in truth, mine inclination leans toward swift and ruthless whupping of ass
to whom its attached i care not
such affronts deserve the talus
agitated by a motion slight enough to trigger cataclysmic happenstance
ending in tortured death by fatal avalanche
much like when one vomits ~irregardless~ pray not, ~nucULAR~
every time i witness such foul fuckery mine soul despairs
which obviously holds no merit for i deviate at will
but such is the hypocrisy of human beings sloughing swill
truth be told this entire piece of prattle thou hast just consumed
was just about as pointless as a dunce cap in a state of ruin
on this note i take my leave, for i prefer to not remain
to pay the price of my misdeeds for which i care not to explain

the continuum of time

o great revealer
of all truth
that shall ever be

obscurer of self

rapt in escape

dare not make
to moor the moment

for we are nothing
if not made

to flow
intertwined

immersed
in the effuse
of everlasting
love

only the heart supine
can breathe
the unending flight
of this precious gift

an existence
most peculiar

[image credit: Kay Nielsen]

the dearth of this illusion
lay upon me
like a bed of nails

bleed into the earth below
as heaven turns the other cheek

seven days have made me weak
as stars conclude
“and it was hell”

sinning in the furnace
with a grimace
of god’s grace

forced into a servitude
that no madness
would call for

prefacing the death
that only leads to life anew

on the surface we are left
to toil by our devices

waging wars against the conscience
absent as the soul

[image: Sir Laurence Olivier]

sleep comes in segments
between the ethereal experience
and fits of ephemerality persisting

these cycles interspersed
amalgamate what i call living

i want to die
but i’m afraid

afraid of living
without you

i don’t have a comfort zone

whatever it is
it sounds nice

like being euthanized
sounds nice

if i ever find myself
in such a zone

do me a favor

step out of yours
and euthanize me

[image: Edward J. Steichen]