Max, or Not

death is the echo
of unspoken breath

the forbidden ideal
of eternal foreboding

bleeding life
into wanton abandon

page rejects pigment
composed of our implores

but only the sick dare to revel
in such discourse
audacious

and so it remains
an idyll most quaint
by the faintest of musters

i witness the effusive sentiments
of unabashed hearts
as they stumble over fumbled footsteps
a comfort washes over me
not unlike the sunlit showers satiating spring
to know that others still yet feel
what once was mine to cherish
in such moments there exists contentment
all throughout the senses
similar to the calm which tends the cemetery grounds
such peace only comes from understanding
that the soul continues
far beyond the scope of our perception
though there may be some who feel affronted
by displays of affection
on their sleeve, a lonesomeness cries
long into the night
painting partial images
of all that they have come to know
secretly, i whisper to the skies
of their behalf
for i have felt the ineffable
flourish from within my being
strumming every string
that brings a dormant hope to feel
and though i since have plummeted
into the depths of loss surreal
just to have tasted ambrosia once
is far more than enough
if only it were written
in the annals of eternal truth
that every life be blessed
with the symphony of the love
as for me, the joy that once was
stays my hand on restless nights
when the unforgiving cold
consumes this ruinous face turned frigid
memories arise to lift my spirit into solace
and within that fleeting flash of twilight
i am found

to share in her company
hearkens rays
of artful sunlight

offering perigean spring tides
of cordial rescue
from this wintry cloak
of distress

rapt amid a verdant daydream
by virtue of her clovered glance

if only life could be as free

where russian blues
and thoughts of her
smiling in tranquility
give respite
for a simple moment’s fleeting

rattled
by a foreign reflection
eyes cannot define

denied the proof
which gathers
as the dust
lain underfoot

looming
amid desert winds
as though to say farewell

were latent scars
adorning lost submission

presaging
what madmen know
and lovers soon forget

the highest stakes await
taken for granted

reverie
a fool depicts
as visions of what truths may be

fostering this conflict
of illusion

what is there to do
when all that you knew
is no longer

with nothing there
to fill the chasm
chaos left behind

when every word returns
back to its bitter home
rejected

where only fools who feel
will find the strength
to carry on

years have fallen wayward
to the tune of time’s duress
shaping us into these forms
of unfamiliar wresting

once, we walked as one
along the open road
to freedom

now, through one another’s wounds
we bleed into remorse

yesterday
you turned away
and shunned our reign
of squander

leaving me
to wander
through this world
without ward

every ounce of dignity
has seeped into contrition

confined unto this bed
of frozen tears
unraveling

somewhere
amid lost expression
linger words
aloof with languor

haunted
by the fate of truth
we fade
into the sun

tears are as the bloodstream of emotion
worn upon our sleeves composed of ever fading dreams
we try to run and hide
but the babel brimming from inside
has left us inert in a state of stimming terrified

fear becomes the impetus for action
fretting with impetuous assertions not implied
oversized amygdalas have compromised our diligence
resulting in a consequence that cannot be denied

here is where all roads lead to an impasse
heightened insecurities usurp our better vies
intentions corrupted
based on truths since deconstructed
the sanctity of verity now hinges on our pride

ere the era of self-preservation
people showed consideration toward their fellow man
now their sole concern is such
that every bridge is burned
an irony so cruel ensuring our fate is at hand

um… like, hi there.
have a wonderful day