I like it when
They get shot in the head
And there’s blood on the pillow
And blood on the bed

And it’s good when
They get stabbed in the eye
And they scream and they take
A long time to die

And it all spurts out
All on the floor
And the audience shivers
And shouts for more

But I don’t like it when they kiss.

(Roger McGough, 1983)

The full blue of the cloudless western winter sky at dawn, while the full moon is still high.

Or the rosé trails of smoke departing dark-grey skycraper’s silhouettes against a perilous sunrise.