Scutty Lee is a beautiful man. He is a dear friend of mine. His talents are boundless. Please take a moment to check out his incredible music. I promise you will be glad you did.
-max
mister scutty.
buns.
mine eyes take to sea
draped in black damask
ask, upon what merit
to what do i owe
thy fine mask of sinew
in shadowed remorse
i lay vexed
exquisite.
a freedom formed
born of toilsome task
such winsome,
this ass
grasping in folly
i falter, forlorn
this finest of fannies
far more than fixed eye
could e’er hold candle to
sand doth sift
and so shifts time
o buns of golden mote
i dote on this fire
to hold what is naught
but a phantom fandango
so taut with transgressions
in visions foretold
foreboding alabaster sheath
aglow
no, asunder
plundering depths
taste tears of sallowed vitae
were strength as a flower
this truth, seed and all
should fall as the hour
when tower doth beckon
thy buns!
thy buns!
o scutty!
skyward flesh effused
obfuscated realms of sordid sanctity
below is a shifting
uplift yea!
uplifting
muted trepidation
threat or compliance
lo, golden buns of stardust waver
o scutty!
buns that scintillate liquescent
‘neath the moonlight’s tremble
in cries of haute
wielding scepter
u lol’d
at my wtf
when i told u
what ftw
really meant
2 which u said ikr
HA! and smdh
which wuz just
so totes obvi
wat u really meant
le sigh is upon me
but idgaf
y u no understand
wth i just said
imho u should gtfo
cuz yolo
idk y u crae
idc if ur bae
i’ll ttyl cuz srsly
this convo is meh
omg like (¬_¬) af
and it’s just like tfwy rofl
just don’t expect me to lmfao
cuz hm. u c i would never irl
speak such an ugh (>_<) ~werd~
though i felt u were dorbs
now i heard that u lel’d
and i thot to myself
“gawd, she can’t even spell”
their just sitting rite they’re
all these wurds
still u :)
y r u not c-ing there mocking you’re style
and your making me feel ಠ_ಠ
“i just can’t”
“r u sure”
“tbh jk”
“oic, just not coming from ur pov”
daww go ahead fam
ama just for lulz
if it’s nsfw
welp, den fml
bcuz its tl;dr
so plz just stfu
halp a kitteh
and stahp doe ∞
¯_(ツ)_/¯
fragments of lovers
burned fast
fall to ash
in this charcoaled heap
that lay afoot
this exterior
excoriated
by the nails
of their failings
but none can impale
for I only have lived
in the aftermath
of a restless memory
forged in a dream
i hazard to ponder
if love had ever surpassed
the scorching
of this insolent soul.
but all I have
beheld
is mounds of
rubble
pounding
plotting
persisting.
the sea now beckons
the sanctity of sleep
on her floor
of forgiving
through this channel of tears
from sorrows impounded
I was never
Meant
To exist
Not like this
Listless
It should have stayed
At just a kiss
Instead
I dream
Of emptied wrists
I should not
Have to feel
Like this
Yet I remain
Waning
Adrift
in days of dust
and clouded haze
sing silent whispers
amid resignation
where muted martyrs
beckon forth
a call to arms
at arm’s length, lost
dull, broken banter
obscuring cries
as empty bottles
fill out our fears
skies loom strewed
with vacant signs
to feed the void
of eyes so vain
the passive ardor
adorning glass
peers through our window
in blighted light
a hand lay cold
on shoulder spurned
fixed in the moment
without flinching
when dusk came sweeping
the people waned
a brief importance
then saw me home
I don’t know who this wonderful man is, nor do I know who took this photograph. What I do know is that this world needs more people like this. On a side note, as if the very symbolism of being homophobic weren’t projection enough, ya gotta love how they would feel so compelled as to actually depict this “sin” to which they are so emphatically ~opposed~, as part of their ≈protest≈ signage. Oddly enough, judging by the dubious depiction, it would seem as to reflect the homophobe’s innermost desires… The mere thought that any person would imagine a “god” that would “hate” any person is so fucking ludicrous and disturbing it’s no wonder we’re all despondent.
in layman’s days
sorrow yet reigns
in remnants
of our love’s refrain
disseminating
through these veins
like silken web
to dying flame
a sallow face
of shallow waste
e’er haunts the gallows
hollow space
as wraiths in fallow fields
yet reap the harvest
of a heart’s disgrace
none can replace
the solace lost
absconded by
the albatross
e’er perched atop
the arch of Eden
bound by freedom’s
final cost
where pandered woe
bleeds disarray
sleeves brandishing
a heart of clay
turned languid
from the anguish
of exsanguination
on display
we experience
our own expression
subjectively
in the form of dreams
our subconscious
is the peripheral landscape
flourishing between
the diametrical opposition
of a contiguous mirror
as we stand
in the midst
of chaotic illusion
alluding to the infinity
persisting in each dimension
and that
of our existence
within every aspect
of eternity
itself
as oneself
as everything
and nothing
in perpetual states
of entropic balancing
behind the masquerade
of conscious awareness
through the cosmic filter
of relevant perception
personified
imprisoned
in irons
of ivory’s irony
inconsolable
impenetrable
in spite of ourselves
a splintered perfection
o, splendorous winter
let us seep into the silent spring
to sing assuagence
and sate the urgent seas
with tempest
Max, or Not 
You must be logged in to post a comment.