treasure

 T H E    U N H O L Y   C O M P R O M I S E

the mind is searching, ever searching

it narrows itself to a squint

and through this haze slit

it seeks the place from whence it first came

a bathetic sleep of the imagined womb

the muffled sounds of mother's day

away from those troubles

and eternally cared for

it searches for that future opening

the inviting door that wraps itself

around it's projected self

and the internal tug of eternal bliss promise

but this tiny death is but a cursed treasure

an unholy compromise of distended realities

a diminishment, a collapse

a promise made, but not kept

and now press down and smothering

of writhing enclosed

it's very breath is party to ecstacy

it's very thought is now unbound

this moment now in memory

a promise that is no longer

that heady dance with purpose lost

is now a pointless nostalgia

and so the mind turns to another kind of sleep

a determined focus in unconciousness

a solo dream of unholy compromise

that we are born and die alone