A Bleeding Bloodline

Hath these hours passed past us two souls so anon, hath they not? Ah! Look I in the face of the lapse and runs in all these veins of mine - a brook of chagrin now.

Am I so ashamed! Too much of it is in me that craven am I to even let it touch - does it kiss my wounds so softly that bleed they the more.

This lapse of a few hours with another few that remain, 'tis making me desire to equip my mind either to eviscerate all my organs out for bloody lips they wear now, dying gradually to speak for me or dismember my hands so die I with only this intent of incurring a chisel so dense and sharp on the edge yet, never let it come ant closer to this skin bears that a splash of thy fingers - such and so a thought lingers.

Has it been days a few, weeks in a number as two?

Yes, has it been that long I surmise and sweetly hath thou slept.

Indeed, how can I deny the verity as real as a present is a time, that hath I slept too? How can I deny, with these breaths that my lungs do take that breathed I all this while? 

Lackaday! Can I not feign that hath I did not dream in my hours of closed eyes. Can I not be insincere to thee for may this cascade of the second be the penultimate for me.

Yet, is this ride too swift or am I merely being carried with no sense of demand to have my body to myself, do I not know? Have I lost my mind already?

Saw I hours of Stygian black under the gleam of thy beam. Was it not the same initially; came the fate into a shape so grotesque in the route where slipped thy hands from the spaces of my fingertips. Did it have to be this way I ask, huh! voile! an answer just when is blindness on my cornea.

Hails from a past too close to my present - a time will I like to live.

I will tell thee about it. Will thou save it? Will thee if commands the salvation only single a hand of yours and the other of mine? 

A time of ties is near, and belittle it as we may, comes it to both of us anyway. Hath thou found a way to escape?

Will I bow and scrounge for traces of reverence for thee in every corner can I grope for in the dark, and love you with an emotion real, will I not masquerade my dear. Will thou divulge the way to me so I can sleep?

Is the hour so close now that juddered is my core with such violence? 'Tis a ramshackle ruin in a shard of some grisly glass. Behold! Glitters it brighter than confetti in a kaleidoscope. Can I behold my face on it and ah! 'tis broke just as is alive this soul of mine on the surface.

Arrives the day so closely for the world to see, yet here we run for fugitive in cowardice. Undone was the tie, but wonder I when we became so embarrassed of the yarns in five deniers that hung from the terrace above. Can you tell?

Is my dignity so vulnerable to jeopardy, but hath thou crushed the confidence of nine weeks and weeks afore in time that shun I even my dignity now. Can the flames be a ceasefire for now? I want it, not knowing how.

Ask me not for the reason why.

'Tis nothing but a moment of false fate I crave. Will my system continue to collapse afterward I promise.