Camping the cave, waiting for an oblivious creature to walk past – still as rock, yet blood thrashing through his veins.

The dragon’s blood-shot red eyes with pupils looking like a black hole sucking up Jupiter.

Crust-cracked desert skin, shuffling around on his back, cutting him like a machete slicing someone’s throat.

Sharp as Kar-98’s sniper bullets piecing human flesh are the dragon’s teeth.

His jaw coils tight as a triple-knotted shoelace with fresh blood on the bottom of his chin.

Its tongue split into two by a steak knife, whilst it looks like two still stalagmites.

His cobra skin scales, flies through the angry clouds.

His spine stands strong as 12 turtle shells – bumpy, flexible, it powers through the sky.

It’s jagged, crescent moon claws, black as midnight, slice into the innocent earth.

The dragon could replace a butcher’s knife.

It’s wings ripped like an old handkerchief, lay dormant resting upon the shaky ground.