Pathos for the Time Continuum V
A fractured spinal cord lay in my path. It's degenerate form forced chords across the increasing gash. A lash, too enamoured of it's slash contained itself within my grasp. Yet alas, the lapse of past was enough to illicit a nuclear blast. Don't be rash, said the random crow. The fires you keep in your heart will draw power from below. No, it's not a ploy to bestow upon you the kind of madness bound in the past tense. Rather, it's a form of conjecture, subject to an equal pressure. Now tear from your igniting tissue all the elements of your dawning issue and feed upon it as a leech to a new suture. This kind of thinking will do me in, I propositioned gloomily. But as to that, said the raven, you're preparing yourself for the future.