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
silence ever
bleeds eternal
on such
darkened eves
huddled
in the farthest
reach
of hidden
memories
barren conscience
lies below
where
shallow whispers
breathe
brandishing
the burdens
buried ‘neath
a bed of leaves
once
shone verdant
in their glory
now tinged
with decay
tucked
in scattered layers
singed
in tattered
disarray
everything
that mattered
faded
in a distant scene
drifting
into nonexistent
narratives
serene
pages bare
the words
unspoken
waging wars
unseen
wading
in the erstwhile
waters
wrought
with misery
somewhere
along this wayward
path
i lost
the sum
of you
in broken
buttons
crumpled
papers
whispers
faintly
promised
to reflections
we once
bared
scattered
over trails
capricious
memories
thread precious
pleas
plotting
their escape
like petty fools
from plighted faith
parched
from implore
upending
thoughts
would mark
the path
that led me
to your vested
heart
when vagrants
sought
the stars
and charted
the descending
hours
of our last
reverie
rapt
in such despair
’til all
that i could
see
were driftless
streaks
of blackness
stripped
amid
the grip
of shame
unearthed
where flashing
shades
of pompeii
stayed
in grim dispart
impressed
upon
the distant
sky
estranged
a world
apart
no woman chooses.
the word “choice”
is a quaint affectation
of male privilege
one that shifts
the burden
onto the woman’s shoulders
with a simple
single syllable
of sinister
silver-tongue
that speaks volumes
of the depraved disconnect
of daddy’s deflection
defecting
neglecting
such wretched
subjection
to misogynist mindsets
that fret
at any hint
shown to impede
its quest for glory
its aweless reverie
of his requisite bequest
that rests for no burden
not even those wrought
by its own wanton hands
with nary a thought
for the “choice”
lies with man
to own up to his deeds
to reap what was sown
beyond his own base needs
choosing not to desert
to then foster a trust
that would honor what is just
by accepting
the circumstance born
of his lust
he must stand tall supinely
to shatter all doubt
in the matters regarding
the wrath of his route
for women most oft
are forever distraught
abandoned
bereft
left exploited
with naught
whilst these men prance
with ease
frolicking fancy-free
fleeing scene
with the breeze
having sown their ill-seed
for their ego
surpasses all
with such vomitous gall
as a life is forestalled
ne’er to answer the call
so appalling this trait
leaving life in its wake
only flight will he take
once his whim has been slaked
without further adieu
in a cloud of hot dust
and a fervid salute
served most proud and abrupt
rendering hearts nonplussed
like a billowing gust
once his will has been thrust
turns militantly brusque
with such fierce flippancy
throws all under the bus
in a thunderous peal
it’s a wonder surreal
as the moment reveals
what his true heart conceals
but there is no appeal
to that which cannot feel
so this dastardly deal
is so masterfully sealed
as a bastard is reared
in a fluster of tears
with a father not there
never bothered to care
not a moment to spare
to prevent all the fears
wrought by scrutinous stares
lurid thoughts turpid lots
from a surrogate’s leer
innocence left defenseless
for reasons so senseless
a treasonous pretense
to heathens demented
still lacking incentive
to try to prevent this
fate of such portending
consequence unending
of futures surrendered
no suture could mend
ill-repute so contentious
yet still men dispute
and refute their subjection
and all for the sake
of their putrid compulsions
so duly revulsing
profanely effusive
the lives left behind
are not those
which they must live
and thus it is a shit
for which they do not give
so willing to forfeit
the world they created
but for a mere moment
of fleeting amusement
that spurns an entire
existence
so uselessly
suffered for naught
and for what
but their ego’s
egregious gestalt
another day
another chance
to wallow
in this hollow
fetid shell
another dance
amid the fallout
of this self
constructed hell
forever burdened
by this curse
immersed in faded
aquarelle
ever is this
burgeoning dearth
fated
until i am
felled
when the hour fell bleak
a rippling spied
the outlier
appearing
in ragged reproach
an artifact without
precedence
that spoke of adoration
dire
ere a doting hope
sang
its parting prelude
from where i now sit
in a cold eclipse
of dreariness
laced
with mistled tears
spent aloft
these long planes
of bondage
i fondly resigned
my mind’s production
flashing its garish marquee
for all to see
foreshadowing
disparity profound
were it not sustained
by wispy druids
of pigment piqued
no further
query
averted eyes
trained vigilant
this chronicle
of maddened youth
swore your rigid head
invalid
with never more
truth
scorned a lustful red
as prideful irony
now reigns
in the void
of expectation
I come
from a long
line
of cocaine
chains
and painted
rainbows
tainted aims
and hijacked
reins
that taunt me
with their wonton ways
led by tinted
saints
whose patronizing
love
would one day fade
in truth betrayed
through time’s display
were
all things ventured
for naught gained
save this dull pain
that e’er remains
to haunt me
in her silent
shades
shadows crept
the length
of disquietude
distilled
in the wonder
of our willful dearth
lumbering
through morass
when last we plundered
this scorching earth
she blindly scrawled
three bold runes
that burn yet
still
within
this piteous pith
of tormented ruin
immune
to time’s retelling
they rave and revel
in a rogue reminisce
i bear
your cross
in the frost-addled agony
of anhedonia
adrift
in discrepant lucidity
of dolent disrepair
its wintry sermon
inhabits
my every haunt
taunting
my inhibition
intently
transmuting
this glacial divide
thawing
with haste
forestially untethering
each stinging tie
to a mind
once sound
I guess I’m an emotional masochist
because I always fuck everything up
far beyond the precipice
of merit propitious
Dare I say
it’s depressingly disconcerting
for it’s duly quite fervid
the ferocity with which I unfailingly inflict
this inbound bondage
I have deemed a living hell upon myself
whose reins I shall never relinquish
Nor shall I ever dispel
the curse that these verses disperse
on my pithless personage
I search for the dirge
that might deign to divulge
my divergent urges
surging to ravage my visage
with savage compulsion
and vague supposition
Vulgar and vile these vices I vaunt
when enveloped in venting
with vanity’s wont
As I saunter hauntingly
to a daunting demise
I witness this witless world
through wistful windows of time
since rescinded sans residual reticence
of rote compliance
that readily dotes on my amative recalcitrance
To further articulate this artless affliction
so to properly parse the veil of this valse
lacking prevalent cause
prudent pause must be given
to parlay the amplitude of dispossession
so that I mayhap, per se
gain from said deprivation
With all best intentions
mentioned ad infinitum
impressed upon god’s greatest audience of none
Yet somehow I find
that the soul of my mind
ever shuns me thus spurring
to run underground
just so that I may hide
from this hideous horror
whorled in writhing
Undermining my chances to shine
with such vibrancy confined to contrivance
in idle contradiction to idyllic ideals
Where no sound is present
to presage profound plights
of piteous people persistently perishing
garishly sinking into sentient pits
of sapient despair
And here I lay
hapless in hyporeactive states
hopeless to extend a helping hand
bearing the selflessness of our sole salvation
To solve any quarrels of lore’s requiem
as ennui quandaries of quietus quell
squeamish skin squandered
Acclimatization to scandal and scourges
encouraging naught but a purging averred
Spurious inference evinced disingenuously
a word so misused it defines what is wincing
Thrust upon miasmic oceans of plasma
in plumes plotting schisms of ruinous rue
Sophists usurping
poised with dissemblance
in spite of supinely presented sound pleas
At which point I ponder
to pander implore
that you please apprise me
what purpose this is for
Aside from assuaging an aging aplomb
ere appearing as pompous
as this pen’s pathetically impaired plies
of reasoning so paltry
Alas, I digress
for my state of distress
is distorting the functions
compressing my chest
Lest I cease and desist
I shall cease to exist
but at least I know this much
is blissfully true:
I am fucked
and I cannot resist
this fool’s fate
of such languorous
and lasting lamenting libration
Intent on selling my soul
to the devil in reveries
of such voracious dyspepsy
and lack of discretion
so disseminating degrading the ground
that I share with my fellow
formations of foul indignation interred
In tombs of tempestuous vestibules
flailing in failure
so profound it resounds and reverberates
in sonorous echoes
that beckon our reckoning
in this armageddon that hails from charred skies
Rippling throughout our decrepit contortions
condemned to a cold crippling morphine drip
faintly gripping death’s sinewless hand
where we lie
Max, or Not 
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