The coming of red.

Slowly, a splash of red
against virgin ivory white.
The ultimate contrast in passions..
lust and fury and anger
against innocence and purity and peace.
Yet,
it is the coming of the red that
brings quiet
A stinging calmness..
A wicked serenity..
an artificial vulnerability

Hypnotized, I watch it..
So still, yet somehow it grows
Pooling up in a perfect,
militant line
So strict and precise.
it marches over the plains of my soul
Imposing its absolute rule.
It both saves me and destroys me
as it governs my being.
I crave its presence more then breath

Finally,
Its demons press their oppressing hands
upon my fragile shoulder.
I offer little resistance..
A gleam of light..
The metal pierces the soft,
unimposing flesh beneath it.

I sit silent now,
As I await.
The coming of the red