I Prefer Not To.
i have spun this web
with words unsaid
upon a bed of sorrow
love ne’er ebbs
though in her stead
i dread to face
the wakeless morrow
broken vows of death’s departing
spoken with a silver tongue
cloaked in shards
from shattered hearts
enshrouded by the blackened sun
seconds fall at fevered pace
as life does from this land of lust
where all intentions turn to waste
and hurt is what we earn for trusting
drowning
in the darkness
silence
rests upon her lips
i long
to lift my leaden head
paralyzed
by thoughts of living
seconds drifting
in and out
from borrowed backgrounds
sitting in the circle
of regret
and rotting earth
thoughts of her
tormenting
pages shorn
to show an ending
spurned
still
her laughter echoes
through the frigid nights
of empty air
poisoned
by the voiceless peril
slithering through
meadows maddened
striking with a force
unfounded
never was her kiss
denied
but shallow whispers
lay awake
to court the
shadow’s song of ruin
through the forest
whence we stumbled forth
to greet the sleepless hour
how do you trust
emphatic assertations
claiming of a love so vital
so unknown
safe and new
all is spoken
as though feelings
never had been felt before
for a moment
nearly falling
to the call
of evermore
pre-assembled sentiments
relentlessly unleashed
lose the power
that was never there
a flower now bereft
of petals
left to tend
the aster’s disk
petulant plebians pandering prose
spawned out of spite from depictions composed
of pithless and petty ploys poised to appease
a princess of poisonous pedantry peeved
with patrons plucked patiently tempered by pique
their person purloined spurred by spurious speech
supinely complying peremptorily
pliable pupils impaired by erred pleas
obsequious as pavlovian lapdogs
a precedent of appalling demagogue
imparting dispatch surreptitiously reaped
to pose such a perfect impression oblique
to passively present through public dispose
promotion of disreputable depose
to please their despot’s pathetic importunes
perilous plots born of perceived impugn
sparing none, for all are prone as her pawns
through solipsist eyes of contempt and despond
pray this memory
tell no lies
in light
of truth
since shone
to strip me
of my last reprieve
pray not
these newly fallen whispers
speak ill
of our erstwhile tales
should they unravel
all my world
would vanish
into despair
for every sinuous
sorrow felled
arose
a sanctuary
that once
we shared
to dare
such dreams expire
but time
forever
radiates
in solemnity
and thus i am fraught
with this aching moor
of that which
i can never
come to mourn
Max, or Not 