i lay the braided stars
before your precious countenance
that you may walk
the path of light
where gods
no longer dwell
for we are but a figment
of ephemeral affectation
reflecting in the tear
that wells
in worlds
wont to forget
the season of surrender
shall not plunder my resolve
to beckon at your call
under the restless moon’s fluoresce
awakened…
stripped and strung
in astral flecks
that flickered with foreboding
the myths depicted
in the dithering
of days foregone
still haunting,
as your fragrance wafts
into the garden
florid waifs found desiccant
wistful sentiments
entwine me
in an urgent yearning
for your kiss
Max states: “I write about the things going on in my life. I am a feminist, humanist, cat loving musician bound by whimsy and the incessant analysis of hyper-vigilant observations. I am obsessed with words and rhythmically woven wordplay.” We are honored to have him…
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