a saltwater pillow
a seabed of sacrifice
halted souls
crucified
beset through no fault of their own
heaving the weight of imminence
awaiting reply
denied of static reflection
from strident pleas
stricken with lost redemption
calling to arms
of open embrace
to turn and face
these fears we hold fervent
through mirrors not of spurned inquisition
to yearn for such tears
sprawling from visions propitious
where no bridge shall burn
come the falling of night
and the weary shall rest
upon plumes not behest of ruinous provenance
with nary a jest to be heard
from the passive prose of pain
transposed into peals of shaming
so those yet remaining
could claim to know freedom
that needn’t bear force
hailing from implores of heedless empire
for virtuous deeds
do not harbor ill will
from beyond barbed partitions
poised to repudiate
the porous skin stretching
so pious to bypass our sins
long since showing pellucid
to bare our every known truth
now effusively blaring
the state of this wretched condition
none dare would call human
Max, or Not 