It is to the ones we love
that we gift our most intricate torture
devices, tools hand tailored for creating
our own personal horror.
Have you ever bled time?
Slits leaking grains of sand
like salt rolled twixt fingers to fall
on red ****** meat.
I'll sear both sides and watch
you choose your child over me.
A choice taken in a vacuum and
the whirl of dust takes me.
To the precipice of disillusionment,
thirteen years of a desperate person.
The sands of time ripple,
as present reaches his dark hand back
changing everything,
all of you: I ever believed in.
Sizzle pop of meat on iron.