like a shaman’s eyes with coals strung
or a hot exhale from the devil’s lung
like a scab poked with wet appetite
or the colour of fresh pain glistening bright
like a staring contest with the noon sun
or cordite corneas from a shotgun
like a slow blunt razor to the wrist
a gory gawking spray of mist
my pupils pathetic, dance and drip red
(aye look how these whites have bled)
crimson cruel, ochre obscene
from bloody texts that can’t be unseen.
(Image courtesy hospitaldrive.org)
