I Prefer Not To.
I self-deprecate
to the point of negation
across all dimensions
beyond space and time
deferring to other’s desired projections
toward futile endeavors
I am not inclined
for I am entwined in objective analysis
however circuitous though it may be
endlessly fraught with a self-wrought paralysis
in the morass of vast obliquities
forever beholden
to untold afflictions
depicting the forgone conclusions
yet known
the cyclical scripts
playing out sempiternally
If woe were me
it would never had shown
how sorrowful
that i have not
the hand to spurn this rent asylum
wrested
by what fate
awaits me
of its own accord
plunged into the great abandon
trauma bound
in ways unwinding
waiting
where her absence
found me
placid walls
pitched lucid squander
precedents
yet linger
onward
solace whispered wistful plunder
suns, surrendered
moons, shone monstrous
shifting umbral
e’er i pondered
nonetheless
i loved you
always
there is a dude named Theo Wren whose talents I revere
his thoughtful words have resonated sentiments sincere
for many times has he expressed philosophies sublime
that linger in the efflorescing landscape of the mind
so oft has he displayed a sensitivity profound
with precedents of relevance, and insights most abound
his love for kittens knows no match, adorning them with kiisu
and somehow, I just know he makes an epic tiramisu
and holy wow! should he choose to avow you of his gift
of musical vibrations, through his voice’s cosmic rift
your soul will be uplifted, and your heart will know its home
his melodies bring harmony to those who feel alone
and when it comes to humor, let me just say, he had won
my everlasting love with his command of seamless puns
I often wonder, what grace did beget our world this man
who understands the nuances of truths Hyrulean
perhaps it is the Link from which his trinity is culled
its empathy, compassion, and great intellect untold
let me not be remiss, in addressing this last point
yes, mister Wren is verily a hunk, I doth anoint
it truly is an honor just to call this man my friend
to see me through the consequence of trials which e’er impend
image credit: Louis Wain
burden
of her own existence
wrought
between ends isolated
martyrs tamed
at shames known altar
thoughts in kind
requite swore not
shed as lash
from earth to ether
stranded
at her muted grasp
if all but one breath
could depart
the wested will
would burden none
beneath the prose
of fluent sun
and restive breast
since tamed invalid
in this sanity
I squandered
slowly
on the arrow’s edge
’til sorrow overcame my fondness
whence such forbidden thoughts
did stray
winter
and I wish
for nothing
wading
through the windows fragment
stranded
on the rigid edge
through the stoic’s desperate prism
flailing
at the frigid words
that struck the essence
of her absence
weeping
at the widow’s ledge
where i lept
i lept
i lept
prospective
to endure another
year
of endless conscious
err
siphon
every value
dearest
indolent
for i
alone
a fever dream
perperuant
of fervid flight
unearthed.
enshrined.
thine ever-looming
unavailing
vortices
through time, though fragile
squander even death’s decay
in verses
of mine own aver
e’er wrought
on planes of sole implicit
the hours arouse disillusion
bedraped
upon fraughted remorse
fretful meander
propels its pulse
onward
exacting a will
fit for none
with fury
unfurling
and blusterous breast
the “worst”
would conspire
amid chaos
so tireless
did prove
as a victor unwitting
then felled by a fire
resolute
Max, or Not 
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