paint
we are violent artists, you and i
and when we share a canvas
our paintbrushes turn to warring spears
and we throw crimson hues ruthlessly upon the felt
until the pigments bleed into our skin
imbuing us with the red-hot passion
that foments continuously until our bodies collide in battle.
and when our crusade is over
all we are left with
is the black and blue that permeates the undercling of our fabric.