I Prefer Not To.
i should probably bathe
but here I sit
i should probably eat something
but here I sit
i should probably shave
but here I sit
i should probably go to work
but here I sit
i should probably tend to my ablutions
but here I sit
i should probably get out of bed
but here I sit
i should probably live…
of all notions deemed outlandish
it seems the credence in our own emotivity
worn upon sleeves of sloe
bereaves its own existence
like a pestilent disease
whence indoctrination grasps virgin mind
malleable and vitiable
to vitriol of vicious avail
vanquishing our most vital faculty
of perspicacity in the periods most poignant
for psychological development
during the flash of formative
efficaciousness so crucial
for the fostering of bonds
not bound by affectations
nor forged by fear of failure’s wrath
through the ever waning window
of erstwhile potential
suspending our biological propensity for sapience
spiraling into speciesism
and sexism based disparities
of such expansive proportion
as to encompass every aspect
of our species
spurring spurious peroration
proposed by patriarchal pathologies
of impudent poise
i’m having a false memory about a dream i once had in which we all existed inside of a forgotten pocket of time that had folded in upon itself and transmuted into a vibrational frequency of such dynamic harmonic resonance that encompassed the entirety of all things both quantum and cosmic on a spectrum of infinite looping which so enraptured our corporeal coils in an ensconcing of such esoteric acquiescence that we instantaneously interspersed into the essence of our absence in transcendence to placid dimensions of eminence and omnipresent consciousness that spanned the heavens far beyond the liquid crystal windows through which we present ourselves as denizens in varied states of indiscretion vetting the significance of cognizance amid existence venting to avail our failings falling from our fleshy prisons vying to compose a comprehensive version of our vision through the vices implemented to prevent the avaricious evils that have sequestrated every living soul inside of silent isles of self-exile meanwhile their wastrel lusting spurns our precious chance to dance with freedom compromising all that we had ever grasped into an astral dust then scattered shattering the poignancy that once we stood to gain but rather than forgo the ego they would sooner let go of the reigns whence they had commandeered in vain through poisoning the coursing veins of mother nature with disdain and disregard imparted by their phantom hearts of darkness drowning in disreputable logic marred by hyperbolic deviants colluding with the devil deftly orchestrating devolution of every amalgamation made up of the molecules that rule our only known subsistence in this distant form that undulates between the egress of our fated path from womb to tomb to aftermath whose ingress we are left to guess in ponderance of great distress so dauntingly ubiquitous the impetus of our bequest
a saltwater pillow
a seabed of sacrifice
halted souls
crucified
beset through no fault of their own
heaving the weight of imminence
awaiting reply
denied of static reflection
from strident pleas
stricken with lost redemption
calling to arms
of open embrace
to turn and face
these fears we hold fervent
through mirrors not of spurned inquisition
to yearn for such tears
sprawling from visions propitious
where no bridge shall burn
come the falling of night
and the weary shall rest
upon plumes not behest of ruinous provenance
with nary a jest to be heard
from the passive prose of pain
transposed into peals of shaming
so those yet remaining
could claim to know freedom
that needn’t bear force
hailing from implores of heedless empire
for virtuous deeds
do not harbor ill will
from beyond barbed partitions
poised to repudiate
the porous skin stretching
so pious to bypass our sins
long since showing pellucid
to bare our every known truth
now effusively blaring
the state of this wretched condition
none dare would call human
ego
ergo I
forgo
grief afferent
from florid faces
fraught
with frigidity
found
in reflection
pontificating
on ploys
to placate
validity’s degradation
Them: “Stop complaining! All you need to do is to pick yourself up by your bootstraps! It’s all in your head!”
Me: “?!? No. You don’t seem to understand. Some people don’t have bootstraps, some don’t have boots, some don’t have feet, some don’t have legs…”
~little pills are my pals
when my life begins to fail
and i fall off the trail
as the entropy prevails
give me doses composed
in the golden ratio
sans acetaminophen
chock full of hydrocodone
on second thought, i’ll forgo
opiates not fit for rogues
oxycontin i want now
80mg green and round
chewy bits of heaven sent
to render me relevant
granting me everything
such as basic functioning
so that i may exist
as more than a listless void
in the languid abyss
so complicitly adroit
what was one small step for a man
is one giant leap from the pits
stepping into the life
that e’er eluded invalids
for you see, pills are power
pixellated fire flowers
or a box labled POW
so that you become the now
like a Cylon equipped
with regeneration ship
like Picard on respite
in a scant Risa tunic
Larry David when imbued
as a Gentile not a Jew
it’s the feeling of the Bern
when all hope has since been spurned
for you see, it’s never just
dust one simply needs to brush
it’s depression so deep
impressing upon our sleep
where we find no escape
ever looming is our fate
wracked with pain, guilt, and fear
falling only on deaf ears
once again, i assert
though eternal is this hurt
it is such that i will
trade my kingdom for some pills~
the culture of our ignorance
extends beyond indoctrination
and bleeds into the heart of contempt
espousing answers to the questions
we dare never ask
embracing with our dying breath
from high atop perches of condemnation
beliefs that somehow never warranted our own research
in spite of this, we clench our fists
demanding to be heard
as though our lack of knowledge
were somehow worthy of respect
inundating those who have spent
their efforts toward due diligence
with furious fits of hearsay
comprised of cookie-cutter sentiments
bereft of relevance
yet bearing consequences grave
assuring the allure
of a lifetime of corporate enslavement
for nowhere is it written
save the pages since turned ash
the urgent plight of humankind
and that of mother nature
there is no word
that ever could hold hope to thus describe
the insurmountable disparity
that lies between those in power
and those granting the power
who’s rotting carcasses are carelessly piled
composing heaping mounds of mountains
upon which the privileged few audaciously stand
as though they were so proud and tall
in rising to the call
of their self-serving pathological disregard
for every writhing soul
over which they lust to gain control
the problem is in and of itself
one of our very human nature
rooted in the innate desire
to want what is best for all
its downfall can be found in the anomalous mutations
that dictate from the dormant hearts
of deviants turned demagogues
these words are as paper dragons
set aflame in the minds of my enemies
should they ever choose to notice
what wrath they would feel
but the winds of chant carry no weight
and wait for none who spurn the hour
and so the depths of forests felled
again shall fall on deaf ears ringing
There are times in which all of the entirety of language fails to suffice our desired conveyance. This is why we have memes. *please take note, this is only a meme, thus, all representations may be prone to parodic exaggeration meant to achieve a humorous effect. Except for that last frame… Why am I disclaiming? Because of my effusive affinity for magniloquent masochism which happens to have sadistic functioning as well. Okay, now i just feel super awkward… argh!
As much as find that I’m mildly afflicted by the abundance of alliterative day-of-the-week internet posting trends (such as ~sassy saturday~ or ~tonsilectomy tuesday~), I have nonetheless decided that I will add to this blog[?] a weekly tradition i shall dub ~Fotoshop Friday~. Or perhaps even, Photoshop Phriday […Fauxteaux Xiaoppe–… ok, i’ll stop. {but i’ll never stahp}…(((halp!))). Upon which I shall post a new Photoshop amalgamative abomination from the ardor of my artifice. Which may manifest in such ways such as to display the essence of my soul as seen below:
or perhaps when “shipping” went 8-bit:
and who could forget when ~Friend∞Zone~ dropped their debut album?
and the toilsome nights that ensued…
PSA’s for troubled youth:
the time i “borrowed” Scutty’s hawt bod…
and the proper tense for intimate grammatic expressions…
but I digress.
Max, or Not 
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