• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 11


The colour of blood,
a flood of metallic energy.

The pillar box of anger,
dagger words angled to hurt.

The splatter of night-time thrills,
spills of lacy teasers, lipstick smudges.

The bright, notice me flag,
rag to the bull syndrome.

The power of the go-getter,
manipulator and me first.

The two tribes of war
sure of their right, their cause.

The hot-head, the passionate,
the car-crash of all-consuming red mist.

Splash wall swatches in shades
of raid red to crimson and raspberry.

Now give yourself up to the fiery heat,
sunset sweet, sky-falling ah’s.