The Moment

they call it a game
fierce competition
it's just another form of passion
though blood not flowing to sexual organs
instead the surging lava feeding liquid fire into muscle
inciting rampant lust upon a green blanketed bed
the players say "heat of the battle"
on the streets their behavior would be deemed criminal
in a moment of fury, a helmet ripped off
with a violent swing a petulant boy
strikes another player on the head
that which was meant as protection wielded as weapon
a bastard bashing, unabashedly
how quickly transforms the athlete into animal
driven by the craving for fresh ichor
rapidly the beast restrained but the damage already done
and now come the consequences for the rabid attack
caged by suspension, the vile creature subdued
should he find release, the taste of claret the strongest memory
sets him on the hunt again