It is a black, red and purple feeling,
pulsing in the fists, tense in the muscles,
an arterial bleed from the tongue
splattering the walls with hot, corrosive
anger, spitting out like miniature explosive
match-flames of bile. Singeing fringes and
searing off moustaches of anyone nearby.
Surprise! It’s flammable! They never knew.
And now the gore and the bile and the
blood-spitting tongue burns and the pulsing
fists fan the flames.