I Prefer Not To.
I come
from a long
line
of cocaine
chains
and painted
rainbows
tainted aims
and hijacked
reins
that taunt me
with their wonton ways
led by tinted
saints
whose patronizing
love
would one day fade
in truth betrayed
through time’s display
were
all things ventured
for naught gained
save this dull pain
that e’er remains
to haunt me
in her silent
shades
men dare
to see women
through invidious eyes
denying affliction
of man’s ill-reprise
they thoughtlessly
perpetuate the conditions
at times
willfully
with no sign
of contrition
and many set out
to inflict ill-intent
ignoring the crux
of their father’s neglect
with misplaced contempt
aimed at those
who remain
whilst somehow
demanding
respect
by mere claim
despite every truth
having burdened
their sight
they would spurn
any proof
of their own
heedless flight
we have seen
that their ego
forgoes evidence
as such fervid devotion
refutes recompense
e’er projecting
the fallout
of that which they lack
by placing their failures
on womankind’s back
it would seem
only dreams born
of male provenance
are worthy of that
to be paid consequence
such brazen presumption
is beyond reproach
yet this veiled institution
one dares never broach
for man’s true commitment
is that to himself
as even the fruit
of their seed
goes unfelt
this tragedy
boundless
pervades every land
its wrath can be found
since the dawning
of man
pray not let ye folly
and scoff at these words
lest ye bear the cross
of all women interred
take care to reflect
on the actions you choose
for womankind’s blessing
mankind cannot lose
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
i bear
your cross
in the frost-addled agony
of anhedonia
adrift
in discrepant lucidity
of dolent disrepair
its wintry sermon
inhabits
my every haunt
taunting
my inhibition
intently
transmuting
this glacial divide
thawing
with haste
forestially untethering
each stinging tie
to a mind
once sound
I guess I’m an emotional masochist
because I always fuck everything up
far beyond the precipice
of merit propitious
Dare I say
it’s depressingly disconcerting
for it’s duly quite fervid
the ferocity with which I unfailingly inflict
this inbound bondage
I have deemed a living hell upon myself
whose reins I shall never relinquish
Nor shall I ever dispel
the curse that these verses disperse
on my pithless personage
I search for the dirge
that might deign to divulge
my divergent urges
surging to ravage my visage
with savage compulsion
and vague supposition
Vulgar and vile these vices I vaunt
when enveloped in venting
with vanity’s wont
As I saunter hauntingly
to a daunting demise
I witness this witless world
through wistful windows of time
since rescinded sans residual reticence
of rote compliance
that readily dotes on my amative recalcitrance
To further articulate this artless affliction
so to properly parse the veil of this valse
lacking prevalent cause
prudent pause must be given
to parlay the amplitude of dispossession
so that I mayhap, per se
gain from said deprivation
With all best intentions
mentioned ad infinitum
impressed upon god’s greatest audience of none
Yet somehow I find
that the soul of my mind
ever shuns me thus spurring
to run underground
just so that I may hide
from this hideous horror
whorled in writhing
Undermining my chances to shine
with such vibrancy confined to contrivance
in idle contradiction to idyllic ideals
Where no sound is present
to presage profound plights
of piteous people persistently perishing
garishly sinking into sentient pits
of sapient despair
And here I lay
hapless in hyporeactive states
hopeless to extend a helping hand
bearing the selflessness of our sole salvation
To solve any quarrels of lore’s requiem
as ennui quandaries of quietus quell
squeamish skin squandered
Acclimatization to scandal and scourges
encouraging naught but a purging averred
Spurious inference evinced disingenuously
a word so misused it defines what is wincing
Thrust upon miasmic oceans of plasma
in plumes plotting schisms of ruinous rue
Sophists usurping
poised with dissemblance
in spite of supinely presented sound pleas
At which point I ponder
to pander implore
that you please apprise me
what purpose this is for
Aside from assuaging an aging aplomb
ere appearing as pompous
as this pen’s pathetically impaired plies
of reasoning so paltry
Alas, I digress
for my state of distress
is distorting the functions
compressing my chest
Lest I cease and desist
I shall cease to exist
but at least I know this much
is blissfully true:
I am fucked
and I cannot resist
this fool’s fate
of such languorous
and lasting lamenting libration
Intent on selling my soul
to the devil in reveries
of such voracious dyspepsy
and lack of discretion
so disseminating degrading the ground
that I share with my fellow
formations of foul indignation interred
In tombs of tempestuous vestibules
flailing in failure
so profound it resounds and reverberates
in sonorous echoes
that beckon our reckoning
in this armageddon that hails from charred skies
Rippling throughout our decrepit contortions
condemned to a cold crippling morphine drip
faintly gripping death’s sinewless hand
where we lie
thy beauty,
prosody
to parchment
petaline
pan silvery waves
as time
forgets
to squander
the frailest shade
peculiar
of a vespertine avail
assailing
listless seas
sweet aureate
avolens
how verily
i doth adore
thy sighing wells
of svelte
pretense
amid desecrated ruin
of barren thought
echoes
sing
your goodbye
still
i hold on
to a memory
I had
never known
far too long
as these stolen
hours come
to light
and life
knocks me back
down
where the screams
of windswept dreams
give way
to muted
mountains
of martyrdom
today
a cringeworthy lyric
gave me pause
for i was stricken
by the oddest notion
it was a moment
in which all
frames of reference
were at my disposal
“what makes a real man?”
i pondered…
responsibility
protecting loved ones
defending honor
dependability
trustworthiness
loyalty
voicing truth
integrity…
as i stood there
i began to see
that it mattered not
how many traits
i listed
for right then i suddenly realized
the only real men
i had ever known
were women
to fall
into the unknown
dimension
where lovers
leave
words like
poets
bleed lament
where
corpses heed
none
but their own
condemnation
is more
than just
morbid salvation
undone
where shunned
is reprieve
born
on sleeves
worn
as weary
in storms
of contrarian
fears
shared
by one
is
to walk
into scarcity
piercing
the sun’s skin
where verity
ventures
of time’s
volition
Max, or Not 
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