Drops streaked on eye
lashes licked in blood
– shot out to fly,
suddenly defy expectations of directing onlookers.
Shook blonde and looked at first, by said eye,
burning dry and craving thirst.

Teared up
dilated pupils will burst
with as much inspiration as the moment a virgin tongue
has willed itself to curse, and lick it’s body’s blood;
a suited-vessal of spit words and spit fire…
Passionate like the love for other fighting high-flyers
absurd in the flakiness of not staying with the herd.
Drops streaked on eye
dilated pupils,
BLURRED.

Mike O’Toole