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(via maxmundan)


Lisa looked at me one night
with her Marianas trench eyes and her
traffic accident smile

and she said to me,
‘You know, Max,
death is not the end.’

This little lump of soul surprised me,
swimming up, as it did,
through her endless black junk sea.

So I responded with a hopeful voice,
‘Is that true, Lisa?
Do you really think that’s true?’

And as a little rope of snot
slowly rappelled from her nose and the tears
poured down her face,

she told me the truth
for, quite possibly
the very first time.

'God, I hope not,' she said,
‘The universe couldn’t possibly be…
so cruel.’

Max Mundan, Death is Not the End

© David Rutter 2014

Follow me on twitter @dmr226


I want to forget my name
inside the sweet confessional
of your pussy, baby
fuck me, baby
fuck me, please
your hips, pounding
hard, against mine
your lips, biting
down, on my tongue
‘til the blood flows
between us

Smother my ego
with your beautiful tits
the avalanche of your orgasm
entombing my restless mind
beneath a mountain
of your moans and sighs
fuck me, baby
fuck me, please
your mouth, around my cock
your fingers, squeezing
my ass, squeezing
the fight
right out of me
‘til the cum and the love
flows
between us

I want to leave myself
beside your bed
drop my worries
on your floor
slide inside
and lose myself
in you

Max Mundan, Lose Myself in You

© David Rutter 2013

Follow me on twitter @dmr226


Today is the one year anniversary of my brother’s suicide so I would like to post this piece in his honor.


Be free, little brother, be free

Throw off your shackles
and fly

Embrace the love
you could never find
but was always there

Come visit me
in my dreams

Know that,
wherever you are,
whatever your form,
you are, exactly,
what you are supposed to be

My darling little brother,
you always were

Max Mundan, Prayer (for Matt)

© David Rutter 2013

Follow me on twitter @dmr226


Q
who are some of your favorite poets on tumblr?
Anonymous
A

I don’t really like answering this question anymore and here is why. There are lots and lots of great writers here. Writers whose work I love for different reasons. I could never possibly list them all and would never want to insult any of them by leaving someone out.
It is safe to assume that, if I regularly put hearts on your poems, than you are one of my favorite poets on Tumblr. And I have a secondary blog, Karmamax, where I reblog and promote other people’s work. You can even send me a submission there and if I like it, I will post it.


My choice was you
or the bottle
and, I think
we both always knew
what I would pick

It’s dark here in this room, alone and I miss you, baby and I’d give anything to have you back; anything I own, anything on this earth, except this bottle. I can’t give you that.

There were your eyes
so soft and blue and forgiving
They reflected back at me
the image of the man
I had always wished to be
Once I thought
I could stare into them forever
but in the end
I couldn’t stop
even for a day
and those eyes
refused to watch me
drown

I’m dreaming of you and you know that I’ll love you forever but you need a man; someone better than me, who can give you the life you deserve. Not this miserable, worthless fucking nothing. Not me.

Then there were your lips
warm and welcoming and cut out of velvet
They pressed against mine
and washed away my fears
my cares, my past and my future
There was only the moment
there in your arms
but I guess I preferred
the kiss of cold glass
and sharp whiskey
as I watched your lips
mouth the word
goodbye

I’ve tried everything and still I can’t stop; cold turkey and AA and therapy and hiding this shit from myself. I can’t stop. I can’t stop. Dear God in Heaven, what the hell’s wrong with me?

Then too, were your hands
agile and strong and sensuous
They soared over my skin
and set my flesh to burning
My body had never known
A touch so true and right
but I need to drink
more than I need to breathe
so I had to watch you
use those hands
to turn the knob
and walk out my door
forever

I drink and I drink but the pain is still here; the fear is still here. There isn’t enough to take it away anymore. Only you could do that, baby but I shoved you out of my life so I could sit here in my own sweat and piss, and drink. And drink. And drink. And drink. ‘til I burst.

If the bottle was stronger
than your eyes or your lips or your hands
then why, in God’s name
doesn’t it have the power
to erase your lovely face
from my mind?

Max Mundan, You or the Bottle

© David Rutter 2014

Follow me on twitter @dmr226


Q
I truly appreciate your honesty in both your response and your poetry. It's obvious that you write from a very passionate place in your soul, which is hard to find in these days of shallow waters and rocky coasts. It's inspiring to see someone take their pain and turn it into something beautiful for other people to not only learn from, but grow from. You are changing lives, sir. And as part of the generation who looks up to people like you, I thank you.
A

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. It is not always easy to relive a troubled and painful past but your heartfelt response and the thought that my experience might be of benefit to others, makes it worthwhile.


Q
Hey, I don't know if you like to do request but can you wrie a poem from the point of view of an alcoholic trying to forget an ex girlfriend? Would be greatly appreciated
Anonymous
A

i don’t normally take requests but I thought this one was interesting, so I will post "The Bottle or You" tomorrow morning.


Q
I've been reading your poetry for a bit now, and I figured that I might send you a message. The stories you tell through your words are the kind that send electric inquiries up and down one's vertebrae, making the nape of your neck stand on pinpoint, and your retinas burn with static imagery. And, I was wondering where you seek your inspiration. Many of your poems are about the downfall of drugs, but are they about you? Don't feel obliged to answer, but if you do, I thank you.
A

Thank you so much. I am blown away by the compliment. Not everything I write is autobiographical but much of it is and all of it is drawn from my personal experience. I was a heroin addict for many years but I decided I wanted to live and turned my life around.
My goal is to speak about some subjects that are taboo in our society in a manner that is more honest and genuine than is the norm. I feel we are at a crossroads, as a species, and it is high time we began to talk about what is really going on.


Q
would you mind if i asked you how many followers you have?
Anonymous
A

I’ve been working hard at it so I have a sizable number but remember that it’s not a competition.