Hemorrhage

I feel like pieces of me are on the loose. No matter how I try to hold together, parts expand further and further apart. I am this emotional sand being and the particles are sloughing off, chest first. Hands are frantic to salvage the grains and chunks, breaking off like rock chips from a wind-stressed cliff side, but steady little streams easily pour through the spaces between my fingers. I realize I am hemorrhaging and time is running out without an hourglass to neaten the end result.