old firm

a blue rage

blurs the streets

i try to find

eyes that see

in wild, writhing

streams.

a burning red

unbeknownst

runs deep

a pulsing line

more me

than enemy.

an orange haze

claws and seeps

coats my lungs

and things unseen:

sickly, sour, sweet

thinly veiled defeat.

a dear green place

buried under shards

stained, bruised

and faded

yet roaring

to be free.

grey above, below, within

i shake my head

at others' sins

all the while

those glassy eyes

reflect a self too blind to see.