Watercolour, gouache, ink, pen, graphite on watercolour paper.
56cm x 82cm.


To be dismissed as unworthy of the truth - the response is automatic!

Anger that murder wont satisfy erupts from the gut.

No thought is needed on how to convert red rage into physical expression.

Fingers curl into tight fists against ice-cold palms.

Hard, bony knuckles made ready to inflict bodily damage, crack bone, burst veins and let blood spill.

Head made ready: aim calculated: tension released into arms: empowered fists swing at the temples with repeated blows, mashing flesh into skull bone.

How many blows will the anger fuel? Keep throwing. Let it surge out. Let it maim and split. Let it crush and damage beyond repair. Let it break a life-time’s work. Let it kill the future. Let there be no end to it - there can never be enough for an end.

Clear and smash the clutter with a sweep of an arm. Crush the debris into the ground with boots. Stab at soft flesh with knives. Stab at the frozen powerless. Revel in the power of inflicting terror. See how far you can go! Nothing is out of limits! Slash into the torso. Cut out the organs. Burst the scrotum. Butcher the limbs. Make eye sockets holes. Drag out the soft convolutions of the brain. Let’s examine the material cause of this deceit.

But there is no satisfaction in inflicting injury on a dishonest man’s body.

There is no value in destroying the accumulated material clutter of someone else’s gathering.

This is no adversary. This bruised and bleeding life is unworthy of my rage!