Max, or Not

I can feel the love
or is it drugs…

well, does it really matter?

if I take a pill
to gain a skill
or reacquaint with laughter

if I find emotion
in the ocean
of an empty chalice

are my feelings
any less appealing
are they then invalid?

tell me, if I tope
to help me cope
must it beg your opinion?

can’t I tie a rope
around my neck
free from misapprehension?

how can one dismiss another
thinking their existence disparate

quiet desperation
is a lonesome fate
not fit for living

if we could amend
this tragic trend
of dubious conviction

we might then be free
from the pathology
of compensation

until then, we both will wear our nooses
of a different choosing

thinking one another
to be victims of some grand illusion

subjecting all others
to the wrath of our uninformed judgments

fancying ourselves
the arbiters of ethical injustice

how could any person
with a heart and soul
forgo reflection

i suppose it is our human nature
to bear such affliction

amid the luminescent hour
i watched
through dormant eyes

a vision
once beheld
by realms
of fond and cordial ties

a setting
where i sought
no end

so gentle
was her mien

we talked
of all the simple things

and walked
the grounded sea

i knew
this fragile furnace
could burn brighter
than the sun

if earth should ever
find me fraught
with reason
come undone

but as i turned
away
no sooner did
her shadow fall

upon the empty canvas
as the moon arose
to call

take caution
on these trains
of thought

and mind

the ties
that bind you

a symmetry is set
upon the steel
that stretches onward

stars may stand
in static wrest

while life pans
the periphery

in parallax
the blur spans slowly

presence knows
no common ground

if we fail
to feed the fire

and tend the tinder’s vital hearth

such tenuous tears

will soon turn
from tenderness
to tempest ire

pay respect
and heed its urgency

for disembark looms nigh

in heaven’s eyes
we are all laymen

waving wayward stamens high

what irony
befalls this burden

e’er upon the twilit hours

man conducting
phantom pilots

grander
than the silent skies

once or twice
maybe three
times a year

i feel a good mood
coming over me

it’s fucking amazing
i feel so alive

i feel
like

well,
like myself

i might go on facebook
and comment like crazy

with all my best puns
in support of dear friends

i might even go out
and partake in public

as though there was never
a beat that was skipped

i could very well
even muster the courage

to contact my friends
and who knows,
even family

engage them in ways
that reflect how I feel

and feel

the ambrosia
of laughter and joy…

a tear would then well
in the eye of imposture

at first, tinged with hope

ere disparity beckoned

and all i could do

resumed fading to matter

as time then proceeded
to scatter

my heart

if i don’t
die soon
i might keep living

and it’s giving
me the creeps

my vagal nerve
needs stimulation
for i suffer
from extant disease

and sex is

what is sex
who knows

who cares

i know
not me

or i
or you

or grammar

actually
let’s make that
*grammer

please

o, how I long
to partake

of all the embers
spinning free

from wisp
to driftless whisper

spent.

what god entrusts
a listless body

bottled
in a beastly realm

dragged before a
pious panel

paid to spare
its spiteful judge;

what i swore
before

was left
to remnants

on the ruinous floor

the flames arose

and all that i could do

was watch
the exit’s glow

they said these meds
would fix me

then this bed
fell, and unfolded

rolled my thought
into its lair

and languished
its lamenting

some think it bad

when hinted truth

is only misconstrued…

for all i had
i left
with you

the backside
of a wall

with nothing sought
in silence dwindling

dawn sets in
to wind us
down

no more to wander

this
we know

and so
i sow
impending

how does one allude
to a notion elusive

effusive
as though it may be

when only the vastness
of uncharted skies
could infer
what such words
would bespeak

the paradox
of her simplistic complexity

echoes the nature
of stars

rapt amid astral throes
sown existentially

wistfully watched from afar

the boundless aberrance
that once suffered naught

would find wisdom
by river’s succumb

imparting a most profound realization

as pain sprung to art

rung by rung

a soundness of heart
filled forever with fervor

seeps into dissilient phrase

of wayward unwindings
in wandering search

for the idyll
of implicit stay

within this
unspoken availing
besworn

lie peals of implore
by peril of impose

pressed between parchment
with florid allure

to whisper the scent
of a lingering rose