So clean the cut,
Look down to see it welling,
Begins to flow,
And scatters as I move.
Paint the wall,
With pretty blood-stained patterns,
Arcing droplets
Glisten as they fly.
Paint the town
With the remainder of my life,
Paint it all red,
So pretty, see it fly,
A work of art,
I see the pattern growing,
And when it's done
I sign it with my blood.
[Note: This is from the uni years so I have guess it is sometime in 1987 or 88. I remember seeing an arc of blood on a wall somewhere; it had a kind of macabre beauty. So I wrote about it.]
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