I Prefer Not To.
time
was the circumstance
that drove paper nails
through weightless
coffins
to think
we once knew
as desperately
we dangled
from tresses
of concession
composed of gold
which stretched
for many miles
beyond
the trenches
of our youth
i look now
upon days gone
eschewing
but nowhere
are you to be found
lost
perhaps
in the vaulted yonder
where obsidian
gaurds
the earthen tomb
there are more thoughts
within this faint entropic masquerade
than will ever see the humility of expression
were that they could be fit for some metaphor
that might convey a sense of infinite eternity
alas, the landscape which bears the collective essence
of my earthly experience cycles in an orbit
as scant as the tip of this pen
I am but a mere fleck of fading ink
revolving around a feckless dash of happenstance
one that once saw fit to encompass
every fiber of my fleeting flesh
fortifying a form so feeble
with belief that life was far more
than just the sum of its paltry components
the feeling which fate is remissful to frivol
that which defines a purposeful flight
through this finite illusion
alluding to skies that touch freedom
where fear goes to rest
to say I had fallen would be folly
for such would imply that I was not
as flat to the ground when first I found footing
flooded with rains wrung from wrenched rumination
relinquishing all of my being
into hinterland arms of her wintry repose
beyond
my front door
lies a great
big world
more vast
than is humanly
comprehensible
a veritable cornucopia
of prospect propitious
and liberty endless
brimming
with untold
opportunity
and infinite possibility
for me
to swiftly
and precisely
meet
my ultimate
demise
in my youth I watched TV
but sadly, none had cared to tell
that it was not reality
and thus, my life has gone to hell
corrupting every moral code
with no second thought to decorum
just as every episode
taught habits for the social forum
shouting loud and slamming doors
why should I have thought this was odd
and storming off with goods unmoored
to steal them in the name of ~god~
flagrantly objectifying
women as the status quo
pathologically lying
to every person that you know
constantly berating fellow humans
brought so many laughs
however, when I tried to do it
people would then kick my ass
sneaking through my neighbor’s yard
in nothing but a ghillie suit
did not fetch the same regard
when fleeing cops in hot pursuit
still, I tried to understand why
my friends cried and told their mothers
when I poked their eyes and ran
I thought that they would laugh and love it
how was I to know that vampires
were not something that existed
just imagine my surprise
that Halloween I was arrested
no one told me using fire
to burn the evidence was useless
nor that sating my desires
was anything other than ruthless
pulling pranks to shame my boss
never quite had the same effect
for every time my job was lost
they branded me a derelict
the doctor didn’t find it funny
when I diagnosed his patients
and absconded with their money
just to fund my cat’s vacation
why is it that all I’d learned
would only seem to spur police
leave the general public spurned
and earn the ire of Catholic priests
acting disingenuous
was all the rage on every show
but people just turned murderous
when I would use the same MO
every single trope
that had taught me the ropes
on television
has since failed me like the time
I groped her and wound up in prison
when I tried to tell the judge
“But on TV it seemed just fine!?”
he wasn’t so inclined to budge
and now I must serve all my time
the bane of capitalist systems
causes damage far and wide
kids left without supervision
so their parents can abide
to that which Jesus most opposed
and though I might not be religious
much like him I don’t condone
a surrogate duly suspicious
children led by such examples
based on worlds of artifice
become far more than we can handle
with real life consequence
how can we punish the actions
fostered by our guided hand
just to furnish a distraction
so we can meet life’s demands
everyone should take a hammer
run it through their TV set
rise up in a Marxist clamor
before things get darker yet
it’s not right that we associate
our sentiments with falsehood
they can’t misappropriate our lives
then try to claim “it’s all good!”
last time i told myself that it would be the last
but here i am again looking in the past
my memory so freely flees into the breeze
the instant that the moment passes before me
i can’t explain my inability to see
from the perspective granting objectivity
much like a cognitive bias against the self
in which my own best interests have been shot to hell
what makes it worse is everyone else seems to know
so quick to remind me wherever i may go
when all is said and done they say “i told you so”
as though their words are something to have been bestowed
well i suppose they may have something of a point
i’m still compelled to thusly disconnect their joints
the only thing that’s worse than chronic fucking up
is hearing it regaled by someone acting smug
you’d think that this alone would solve things without fail
but i am human; ever prone to get derailed
and for this very reason i am bound to kill
when comes a cocky bastard telling me to chill
which would explain the growing pile in my back yard
composed of corpses of those lacking such regard
take my advice when someone states they’ve had enough
that’s not the time to try and call them on their bluff
nor is it prudent to act disingenuous
nor to allude to any breaching of one’s trust
i’m not just preaching some type of friendly heads up
if you keep reaching, your demise will prove abrupt
of course, you’re free to take this any way you want
just don’t act so surprised when i do as i am wont
in case you missed it that’s the wonton reverie
of your destruction since you chose to fuck with me
you will see
my pain
the endless hours spent
the triumph
of this misery
in a momentary squander
you may wander
through the pages torn
and wonder
how i speak your truth
the one
stayed by a stinging tongue
layered ‘neath a stolen sun
abeyant
at times
we will laugh together
rain may fall
on distant ground
and the secret
guarded smile
will have vanished
left untold
on the cusp
of thought symphonic
on the path
of parting stream
though we understand
the story
who we are
remains unseen
mystery becomes our warden
through these words
of sought reprieve
with lackadaisical regard
i watch as they dwindle
one by one
and sometimes two
or more
i never formed
a reason to rhyme
until time descended
upon me
like a pornographic impulse
brew me another cup
of disillusionment
while you’re at it
that last one
nearly fit the bill
sometimes
i wonder if i actually will
or would
or could
of course,
there is no question
as to whether or not
i should
though i am
but a coward
in uncomfortable skin
i’ve worn out
since the day
the world informed me
as i swallow
more
to boredom’s pallor
like a Fuller Brush Man
in a town inhabited
by ghosts
where nothing hearkens
but the silence
that consumes me
as a void that lay
between two mirrors
spared of my own completion
i awaken
to words of kindness
from friends
and strangers alike
but there is nothing
strange about this pain
that we share
this bridge
we have all built
through the sorrows
of our time
grants us more
than a fleeting respite
as we gain
the understanding
that none are alone
that every struggle
affects us all
that our face is seen
our voice is heard
our truths, known
it is only in togetherness
do we stand
to court the hand
that bears the gift
of the morrow’s ingress
know, my friends
there are no strangers
among us
let us walk bravely
into vales
of unknown consequence
for love
shall harbor no secret
when its light
has finally shone
to guide us home
so it is, was
and shall ever be
this dream
e’er haunts humanity
when I tasted
the ground
my world
was no longer
for what I had found
was stronger than death
when my face
grazed the earth
my sight
torn right from me
I gazed at my worth
were life not a freedom
the crashing of bones
knees, elbows, and skull
would fall into silence
upon urgent moment
the brashness of one
fleeing from the lull
appallingly useless
for all, consequent
a poem is but
a restive cluster
grasping
onto pages
with our frantic
fears conspicuously
calling out
for rescue
meticulously poring through
decrepit thoughts
of hoarded visions
kiss to tryst
to triste
in a blissful
dissolution
before sediment
comes nigh
where sighs undress
our destitute descries
calculated coalescence
pandering our pride’s
priviest imprints
curling chips of paint
exposing throes
of yesterdays
sacred cruxes
born before
our burgeoning bereavement
from whence all
embarking destined
for a distant hearken
poised to be
impartially presented
in pretentiously penned
appropriations
parsed
to pierce our peers
appetition
to sate this
untold inquisition
Max, or Not 
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