Red Bull

Out of the arena the matador runs for his life

And the bulls follow close behind snorting like some diesel run bovine wrecking ball wretched with years of abuse

The madness has begun to grip the streets in a frenzy and the streets shake and buzz with intensity

And the white hats and red handkerchiefs shake in a flurry of fear and anticipation
Whilst the sun turns a crimson clotted red, setting over this Pamplona fiesta

Paella
flung into the air and a man hurtled into the skies above
In the distance you can see the wake of the bull as the red mist and sweat rises like a fog above them and the runners are thrown like skittles into skies and on to these cobbled jagged streets

A true beast of myth and legend finally escaped for the labyrinth and ridged with rage of it ritualistic slaughter for the satisfaction of the crowd

Red sails on turbulent seas cause my father to jump from the cliff and a return to an empty house and a heavy hearty steak on the table….

It  is so beautiful it has been knighted and now sits in my belly still raging and royal.

A Taurian and a scorpion battle for supremacy trying to fuse their physical ecstasies but in vain as she stamps the scorpion into the red dust of the arena crushing his heart into the sands.

The bull bolts on ballistic and with purpose when the sniper squezzes the trigger and the hammer crashes and ends this magnificent creature forever.

I sit back on the tango streets of Bueno Aires in this "good air" and sip my red bull thinking about the taurine racing through my veins and that bullish spirit I hold in my heart.