Max, or Not

every realm bears upon me
its own distinct essence

through past
into present

i perish

the unending blessing
that renders me human

is home to the cherished
unknown

were i to recall
what was wrought from felled skies

through the lens of this living aberrance

the fabric of time
would begin to unwind

and the lone self that binds me
would vanish

the days
disrupted

rapt inside
the erstwhile pulse

whence we arose

such consciousness

a precious efflorescing

since diminsihed.

circumstance would spurn thy youth

entrenched
amid fires treacherous

to find the way
back to that haunted home

was never understood.

witness
to the underworld

with eyes wide open

wits awry,

a newfound war
always awaiting.

patron
of a faded state

whose silence did obscure its wrath.

bounded
to a coil’s collapse

when crimson cries
were heard

by none

underneath
the arbor

where the argent gentrified the sun

stoic stead
of readied armor

now retired
of static wrest.

rest
among thy fallen brethren

lost
’til we yet meet
again

there in the midst
was our innocence

awaiting its own devolution

standing by
through the eyes of remorse

we sunk into the peppered sand

and wondered

when our hands would relent

but the day was then spent

our intentions unseen

and the sun stirred
into the horizon

when this charred earth
did bless his farewell

misery

o, masochist

I wallow

in thine arms

my will

is but a fragile whim

impinging on thy scars

when blissful bounty

found us sound

so boundless was the earth

until  the ground I stood upon

surrendered unto her

the season

of exsanguination

came and went

and there I spent

the auspices of youth’s adore

whose glory

I shall know

no more

though hollow scenes

have stayed the hour

sentencing the hearth

yond mire

I remain

the entropy of birth

beholden to its herald

fellow fools
of fallow mind
and forlorn affectation

fraught with filial arrogation

failed by ill-foundation

framed by feelings
fostered through aloof defenestration

father-figures flaunting ever-fleeting fugitation

fraudulent confederates
enfeebling salvation

fomenting self-loathing-atmospheric-flagellation

suffered in the confines
of an infinite confusion

stifling thy fervor
ere forever fell to reason

folding into fetal failures

father’s fragile ego-fodder

fumbling to lift thyself up
through a phantom-like imposter

woefully conforming
for the comfort of false heroes

deftly deconstructing
default states of disrepair

fear no more
forgo thy moral code
with condemnation

for to give a fuck
facilitates the fuck that’s taken

though family is but fantasy

let life not be forsaken

patiently

do souls divide

devised upon eclipsing faces

clasping
onto coils
collapsing

glimpsing
into prismed stasis

prisoners
of implied perspectives

wardens of a will subjective

wallowing amid the irony
subconsciously neglected

dubious
in their discretion

predisposed to predilection

pondering
when they will fall

from mother earth’s inbound reflection

writhing
through the undulations

wrought by mortal trepidation

endless existential crises
leading life to deviation

searching
for their own salvation

destined
for dissemination

any worth they deem
is but an arbitrary affectation

barbaric
by incarnation

paradoxical creations

bounded by the crux
that is the crutch
of their idealizations

phantoms
of a flesh-bound station

failed
by fear’s indoctrination

nothing
as it seems
will mitigate their wrath
of ruination

not even self-flagellation
could absolve them of their own sins
solely by the merit of the fantasy
of their creation

luckily, for mother earth
their reign is but a fleeting moment
far beyond the fervid fears
which humans are so wont to foment

every species truly is a stowaway
destined for torment
on the mothership of looming death
we are as dust lain dormant

remember
that somber november

whose air

sang umbral abandon
when nigh

your words
were the ember

god’s semblance
did spark

with aril,
this ruinous heart

the stoic did tremble

in silence, we cried

our world
now awash with despair

and those who had watched
from their crumbling spires

knew nothing
would cease
our depart

depression
is a slice of pizza
stolen from your hands
by Jesus

everything
you ever wanted
waiting
on the “other” side

pearl of power
long expended

Supple Skin
by Christ Dior

thrusted
through the door
of demons

doomed to fail
forevermore

and...

    or...

       ...some shit like that