Max, or Not

i rode thirty miles
on an old silver schwinn

that i bought for ten bucks
at a yard sale.

if i told you
what for

you might fire me
right then

in the end
it was all

for a cigarette.

rest assured
it was worth it

even with the slow leak

and that hand-pump
from hell

amid three-digit weather

just to wither away

one more desiccant day

in the dolor
of flailing depression.

this requiem fragile
belies our sworn harness

wbose earth
hearkens heavens

we have not

such agony rests
at the tip of my tongue

when i taste the sweet torture
of late summer sweat

the barest reflection
my being can muster

is lost
on the jagged shard floor

as I sort through those remnants
a wayward glimpse beckons

and bleakness consumes
my black heart

there are times
when we fall
from the face of the earth

when our boundaries
are broken

and sorrows
unsaid

i swore to recall this
in autumn’s recluse

though the spiral
had naught

but to spare me

the thought
of a dull blade

led by the sun

displacing this state
of displeasure

replayed like the dawn
through the slits
by the surface

i ran
to her voice

but the void
beckoned homeward

in fear

would i find my accord

to be misunderstood
defines the state
of the human condition

regardless of the inference
of cosmic implicit connection

the infinite array
of instances begging misapprehension

fueling such misconstrual
duly defies comprehension

trust becomes a paradox
through idealistic obfuscation

lost in narratives
appearing aberrant through false perception

any existing exception
seems a happenstance deception

trust may very well be but a dissonant cognitive function

bounded by the merit
of one’s personal associations

founded in the influence
of formative indoctrination

pendulously poised upon the precipice
of free expression

perilous in its appeal
to one’s apparent predilections

prefaced by supine professions
pandered in an open forum

therein lies the rub
inherent to surrogate affectation

trust cannot be given
to a mere phantom manifestation

ergo, we may err in our attempts to show discrimination

unwitting as heirs to circumstances begetting vexation

seeing how this is the fate one forms of their own reservation

any thought beyond this
is an exercise inefficacious

if only
i had me an uzi

i’d ooze bullets
all up on these ants

my chances of hitting one
might be quite slim

but damnit!

it sure would be rad!

oh, no wait,
let it be a flamethrower!

i’d rain the sweet pain
of thrown flames

my house might burn down
with the ants yet abound

but whatevs
cuz it sure would be great!

nevermind that, i need me a warhead
equipped with an anti-ant nuclear bomb

granted, all life might then cease to exist

but really, what more could i want?

second of the Sun’s avowal
how will evermore avail us

in the vice of voided lovers
vying to profess one truth

for even now, through efflorescence
entropy exacts its fare

afire amid the hearth of sorrow
bidding earth and air adieu

in spiral stirrings
sold to silver

casting words
on withered morrows

heard and halved
unfolding onward

precious dirge

embrace me never

from afar

by stoic vigil

when you said
you wish
to be a cat as well

i somehow knew.

through the sentiments
reflected

I beheld a hidden truth.

implicitly

i understood
a feeling
whence we shared

this arbitrary burden

through the briars
of despair

a sense of self
awakens

by the merit
of your words

for time has not forsaken
what your spirit
now confers

the stirring
of the starts

our fervent hearts
can never quell

though quietus awaits
its impetus
henceforth, dispelled

freckles
are like fingerprints
upon a fallen fractal

from a fiction
found ephemeral

defiantly
adorned

to reflect
the inward architecture’s

exodus of time

by the existential anti-matter

absence will comprise

through disparities
between the void

and destined intertwine

for a freckle
exceeds any value

so defined by heaven

heed the Pleiades

peer past the visage

poignance erred divine