A Case for Blood

Or, I language myself into bondage. The found words worm their way into my mind, self-replicating a meaning thought to be there all along.  A meaning that tightens a hold on my chest until I relent to its eloquence.  A meaning that spreads like a simile.  The wholeness of words are institutions-in-waiting, treatises, decrees, commandments. Or like the corpuscular fact of a suicide letter, solicited by the very flesh it promises to punctuate.  I fear there is a case for blood in every prophecy.