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Compromised Consciousness

Unwavering sleep, which I forge out of depths of my own hell

Gingerly lies, to all but self. Putrid kennel,

‘Dare I join the beasts?’ Is but a question to all whose hearts, it beats

Tender night, to veil my love for the blossom of day

I hate the frost, late dawn, though my one true dark love can stay

Junkie veins… like roots of a great mahogany, turned lumbered, freshly processed

Imbibed into my psyche

Conveniently sized, covertly despised, effective in none, but only all.

My conscious, compromised

And so, with fleeting feet of terror I make for a last escape

Slithering out of its grasp on me, the church bells tell of relinquishing

This rotten mind you gave me, formless shape

Of dreams forgotten and life lost

The sky is forever blue and knows no dismal accost

Unlike you;

I have cursed you, murdered you, for you to bud again

Through cracks of permafrost, you plunge

Like a horrid sickle with its razor edge

Wretched infliction, you’ve bound me to this ledge

Now there’s days in which I gaze upon a white sky

It tells me the seemingly permanent is merely illusory

You remain conquerable, however sly

Michelangelo’s calloused hands are that of mine

My work’s cut out for me. I am an artist

You are my art. Despite my hate for you, I fall apart

In only the most convenient of ways

You sick addiction, you are my endless maze

You burned into me unsalvageable desire. My flesh is scorched, arteries and veins ravaged (they hang in the space between what was and could’ve been), presenting me with my own sin – I must look it in

He is passion, etched desire, Unacquainted with a sun or moon Familiar with the pale fire That is often gone too soon A day without my love in arms Is waiting for the sun’s expansion That’s taking pro

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