Is the razorblade
Slicing down through the heart
To pour out the lifeblood of the soul
Onto the sands of eternity,
To mix and blend through the grains
Running down through the hourglass of our portioned days,
Slipping through our fingertips
To swirl around our feet as we pass them by.
What would we give -
To stop the severing edge of the scythe,
Stitch up our tattered shade?
To take back up our lost soul's blood,
In lustful breathless gulps
And look out upon the barren desert of existance,
And a broken vessel of glass.