Death Drive
The provocateur of our interior,
doth crawl as beast
of horror and in the darkest corner
of our cave. Yet, we wave what little flame we have leased.
And within that flame,
time bends and appears as eternity.
For in a glimpse, that beast is put to shame,
but no degree of acuity shall see our lease reach infinity.
Death lurks, like a clerk of the shadow
forever harboring in the checkbook of our mind.
Balancing the ledger, until finally, we are hollow.
by Matt Crowl