Red

The Red is piercing my skin and pushing furious tentacles out of my neck.

With every heartbeat the scene turns brighter, I’m caught in a self-made wreck.

The green contact lenses I’m wearing can’t hide the pressure raising within,

I know my eyes glow in sultry carmine, I know I’ve lost my linchpin.

The nails click on surfaces, they dig into walls, they pull out my own hair.

The Red comes in waves and it leaves me crying for a chance to fight fair.

But they own my guts and let me sleep in them, too, just for another payday –

So I snap at myself for reasons unknown, convinced that I’m their prey.

The Red punishes me, it holds my nerve ends under deadly avalanches.

Fixing the damage feels like welding together burned and broken branches.

And soon enough every part of my torso is covered in a crown of flames

So I let the yet untamed Red out to play with its creators,

The instigators of my deep shame.