Hurting hearts beat unevenly out of tune.
The ticking clock tocks out of sync.
Cold iron sheaths impede their speed,
while pulse rates deccelerate
towards molten metal states.
As the blood flow slows,
pulsing throat-beats throb,
climbing the spine like a vine,
drumming the ears, blinding the eyes.
Clumsy lungs stake out air
with shallow regret.
Numbness fades to pain
switching roles easily and again.
A cracking voice aches to break
the silence in half
but broken lips only bleed
at slow uneven speeds.
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