I Prefer Not To.
meet me
where the shadows drift
apart
from who we are
where waning tides
reveal the rift
that weeps
into the stars
wrap me
amid layers
of a long
forgotten kiss
our voices
led astray
upon the solace
of your lips
shake me
to the rhythm
of our innocence
denied
pray not let us
fall
into a conscious
state of lies
for all
this world
has proven
naught
but torment in reprise
and so
we take our leave
as sorrows bleed
for you and i
thy beauty,
prosody
to parchment
petaline
pan silvery waves
as time
forgets
to squander
the frailest shade
peculiar
of a vespertine avail
assailing
listless seas
sweet aureate
avolens
how verily
i doth adore
thy sighing wells
of svelte
pretense
to fall
into the unknown
dimension
where lovers
leave
words like
poets
bleed lament
where
corpses heed
none
but their own
condemnation
is more
than just
morbid salvation
undone
where shunned
is reprieve
born
on sleeves
worn
as weary
in storms
of contrarian
fears
shared
by one
is
to walk
into scarcity
piercing
the sun’s skin
where verity
ventures
of time’s
volition
i awaken
into dream
the essence so precise
a place
i know so well
it seems
this feeling
permeates every aspect
of my being
where i can
never again
expect
to be
time has turned
forbidden
spurned
forlorn
for the life
of me
i cannot
discern disparity
alas
my conscious mind
soon finds
the glass rift
as what was once
life shifts
the past
sight amiss
all is ripped
from this fervid grasp
in that fleeting
final frame
of perfect
freedom
forsaken
Pensively, with pen in hand
I seek to speak this heart’s demand
In verses vetting no avail
Dispersed through endless paper trails
The flames of amorous subdue
Proclaimed in clamor since imbrued
In rumination brewing long
From luminescent springtide song
Frustrations thrust upon this mind
Soon turn to dust all in due time
As lost laments gather to die
‘Til one day come a weather eye
In search of words to mend the wound
Unearths the tome that tends this tomb
These tales eternal then retold
In vales of vernal life once known
For all things past must yet return
As falling glass from stardust spurned
we experience
our own expression
subjectively
in the form of dreams
our subconscious
is the peripheral landscape
flourishing between
the diametrical opposition
of a contiguous mirror
as we stand
in the midst
of chaotic illusion
alluding to the infinity
persisting in each dimension
and that
of our existence
within every aspect
of eternity
itself
as oneself
as everything
and nothing
in perpetual states
of entropic balancing
behind the masquerade
of conscious awareness
through the cosmic filter
of relevant perception
personified
i have never written
anything
these words
are not
mine
these thoughts
i may
possess
to some degree
perhaps
i act
as the filter
through which
the collective
experience
accrued
by this feeble form
speaks
to the world
my expression
does not belong
to me
for i am unable
to behold its presence
our words belong
to one another
just as love
suffers
no dominion
but persists
in the form
of all things
in every temporal instance
as the one
singularity
of our existence
thank you
for sharing
in this experience
every day
we awaken
edging ever closer
to oblivion
none
can say
how or when
some dare
ask why
only one
stands
to find
out
i for you
and
i for i
[Artwork: M.C. Escher]
These thoughts of you
Invade my every waking sense
Weakening with bated breath
Wreaking chaos
In roseate efflorescence
I walk the edges of eternity
Faltering at every step
through faults of amphicheiral aching
Where fragments form our firmament
To compose in erstwhile prose
And wistful reclamation
Transposing woes
Into frozen waves of piercing
Shattering on stuttered shores
Of dormant adoration
Awakening the ardor
Of dreams lost to translation
Where stardust softly tends
The silence of surrender
a mirror stood
before me
i hesitated to look
for fear of seeing
the ugliness
the weakness
the shame
cast to seas of sorrow
the skewed mouth
and squinting eyes
the furrowed brow of condemnation
the cowardice of complacency
the body
time forsook
the heart left to bleed
on sleeves of insolence
wincing reprieve
i strained to raise my head
to actually look
at the abomination
splayed supinely
before me
for all to see
but foreign was this frail affliction
that watched my fears
fade into light
through windows
of my own humanity
to see the world within myself
as myself within the world
Max, or Not 
You must be logged in to post a comment.