of course i lie
i’m only human
that aside, one sick of liars
i can justify my libel
yours, i dare not ponder freely
far beyond this ten-foot pole
your willful words of skillful squander
dangle at aberrant angles
fraught with such finagled ire
were that i could only trust you
unlike me, your ship has sailed
destined for abhorrent harbor
drowned in ardor so reviled
solely, to the death, indignant
figments framed as picture-perfect
truth absconded, lost in the morass
endless grabs for abstract fragments
stabbing blindly at the dark
puzzles pieced extemporarily
tenuously strung as art
how you manage without tire
mystifies the misled mind
wandering through gaslit tunnels
taciturn, you spurn the last
this pathos of recalcitrance
sits pithless to the bitter end
[image credit: J.W. Fores]
Max, or Not 