Author: Max Meunier

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get the fuck out of here!

pray tell
what dangers must you mean?

my avarice spurred
en vogue
vexed accessory
of super sexy
existential vacuuming

is low on space?

WAT!?

call the cops!

and shield the youngsters
from such horrors!

DANGEROUSLY LOW ON SPACE

i c

well GAWD FORBIDDDD

what will the neighbors think?

                O. M. G.

please, don’t tell me
they were notified
as well…

suddenly
the danger
has proved poignantly
apparent.

last night
i had an awkward dream

i watched
from the periphery

a billion colors
juxtaposed the emptiness
inside

flashing neon lights
composed a symphony
of silly scenes

i watched me
navigate through nothingness

what hazard
could i not foresee

every garish word
a symbol

simple
in its reverie

the joyous jubilation
which exuded
from my jury

was enough
for one to witness

without warranting
a welcome home

still
i stood
a watcher

witless

waiting
to succumb to torment

what lay dormant
in those wakeless hours

i will
not ever know

what is left
but wistful words

wasted wants
and willful wallow

…allow me to reiterate;

lavish me
with love
for life

along the leafy sea
of dragons

pour your heart
into mine
as we pore over this rose dramatis

never let us falter
into cold complacent
static statues

…sadly…

there is irony
within these words

if one has ever heard
a heartbeat…

held a hope
that fell
into that old vacant abyss
inside…

the one that wants to rob the morrow
hobble us
with sorrow’s sword

if my tears could turn toward
the bleakest sky

would I then follow…

only
if you took my hand
and told me
who I am

five-thirty AM
and i haven’t a friend

just the cruel crux
of dawn creeping onward

the sun has its way
ever to my dismay

for what dreams have been left
at the altar

with all its demands
comes the day
to spent hands

and my soul cannot fathom
to muster

any semblance of self
through this pittance of health

in a world
overwhelming with bluster

if given the choice
i would find my rejoice
in the arms of the darkness eternal

alas, it remains
this infernal refrain
in the backdrop façade
of life vernal

expression begets naught
but exasperation

forget the time spent
and the arduous effort

one cannot afford
to expend what scant little
extant wherewithal
feeling frayed
and befuddled

as if the internal morass
of mere mulling
would fail to avail us
of endless dishevel

the thought of conveying
one’s thoughts should allay
the cacophonous crepit
of entropy’s sway

but the fact e’er remains
that upon one’s imploring
such pleas only seem
to fall on deaf ears ringing

like gears of gargantuan golems
will grind
in the gloaming
of desolate dawns not sufficed

as it is
one is left to resume the bleak path
of words wasting languid
’til death reaps its wrath

life
is what you
may covet

i heard
or misinferred

though, i prefer
to forgo grief

thus, i cannot concur

as heathens e’er do suffer
every zealots’s ire imposed

upon the sanctity
of freedom

from what none
can know

i had finished mining some garnet
and having amassed quite a load
i called for my ride
but was sadly denied
for some reason
they chose to forgo

it dawned on me then
to call uber
in spite of my dirt-laden clothes
the driver showed up
and was like, what the fuck?!
and insisted that I should disrobe!

at this point
my haul was so heavy
along that precarious turn
a choice was then made
my attire was relayed
to his trunk
though i felt somewhat spurned

and in that rear view
of revealing
my muscles did glisten
with sweat
i swear that his eyes
nearly doubled in size
and my soul did feel
heavily pet

at last, when that long ride had ended
i climbed out the back seat
half nude
my neighbors did sigh
at the scene they did spy
heaven knows
what they must have construed…

when they find
my lifeless
pantless body
just know
it was the ants
that got me
why it is
they took my pants
i will not
ever understand
for there are some questions
we would all do well
to never ask…

I can feel the love
or is it drugs…

well, does it really matter?

if I take a pill
to gain a skill
or reacquaint with laughter

if I find emotion
in the ocean
of an empty chalice

are my feelings
any less appealing
are they then invalid?

tell me, if I tope
to help me cope
must it beg your opinion?

can’t I tie a rope
around my neck
free from misapprehension?

how can one dismiss another
thinking their existence disparate

quiet desperation
is a lonesome fate
not fit for living

if we could amend
this tragic trend
of dubious conviction

we might then be free
from the pathology
of compensation

until then, we both will wear our nooses
of a different choosing

thinking one another
to be victims of some grand illusion

subjecting all others
to the wrath of our uninformed judgments

fancying ourselves
the arbiters of ethical injustice

how could any person
with a heart and soul
forgo reflection

i suppose it is our human nature
to bear such affliction