Of the Color Red

Red flames its connotations at me in machine-gun style as I stand apart, gazing down upon a viscous blood that gathers on the ground. It darkens, as to pour an offending brown of quasi innocence, defiance of its claim to urgency, though crimson petticoated ladies scream, and stream away. A color holds for me too much of sway to siphon off mere brightness from a twilight evil just to make a point; it screams and rages, throws romance upon a dalliance, excites a passion far too colorless alone to sweep a lady of the night into the morning. It takes its purplish and golden hues along reluctantly. It is a prima donna unassuaged upon its fearsome quest to rule the sky at sunset when those mocking soft pastels would rather whisper their reflection of the day. ~