Drycicles

Time bled to the point of exsanguination, the tiny

Ruby

Droplets

Would leave no choice, no offer for imagination. It was obvious,

It was there. It was pulsating nightmarishly behind my temples

And dilated pupils. Everywhere I’d look, I’d read that news, that seed

Of damnation. No, there’s nothing left, no offer for imagination

Not even doubt, the welcomed companeer, that mariner that helped me

Steer.

Time bled. Time bled. So take me down instead, won’t you? No, you can’t, I know

But damn you for not even considering it, not even suggesting it as a likely

Trade. When all will

Fade I’ll

Say farewell.