I Prefer Not To.
in spite
of mountains
of might
air
bears no impression
for years
we watched
lying rigid
in piqued
anticipation
every time we looked
away
the day had since fallen
even still
do we burn
holes in the ceiling
retraversing every misstep
shadows crept
the length
of disquietude
distilled
in the wonder
of our willful dearth
lumbering
through morass
when last we plundered
this scorching earth
she blindly scrawled
three bold runes
that burn yet
still
within
this piteous pith
of tormented ruin
immune
to time’s retelling
they rave and revel
in a rogue reminisce
Max, or Not 