Ball my fists And hunch my shoulders Swinging wildly Til knuckle meets boulder Does the earth merit my blood? Do my bones merit the mud? My voice becomes a vessel for words reserved for sailors and such And my belly a sloshy sloppy pocket of *** Writhing is my skin At the thought of him within Alone with no means of defense Where defense means offense And offense brings a means to an end But I'd rather not think on the end As I'm only about to begin So I make a fist And swing Until nerves breach the bone And veins burst within I've known splinters and flint And broken glass on skin I know what it is to go without breath And drown in the sink This is just another week