Beads

A bead of red rolls down my arm, an eloquent prayer, a scream. Alive in a way the arm is not coming awake in a dream. A drop of swirling living cells, abandoning a foundered host, drawing a line on the curve of meat, segregating machine from ghost. Cousins drop from a fluttering lid, another line following a tear, rolling along a wrinkly nose, washing away horror, sorrow and fear. life turned liquid flesh to dust aspirations unmet iron will to rust either [ caught between galaxy and quark a trivial flame in the dark nothing cares that a mind was here the flicker of a trivial spark ] or [ as my eyes dim, and drop finds drop your voice, Erin, fills my mind your hand reaching out to help me forth horror sorror fear left behind ]