I live for two hours, five hours, bite to bleed.
A cryogenic coma until we begin.

Arguing in vain with the town around me,
over nothing able to be justified, and he and I don't care;
reveling in the confusion of the tri-city area—
drowning our egos and taking our time
until we truce with razor smiles; shift
to removing tongues with pliers in our words.
(living amputation and too much diet coke)

Shouted disclaimers spread to the rest of the state,
in case they never wondered how it feels
to watch a living heart exposed.
He gleamed gold with self-confidence as he cracked his knuckles.
"I'd like someone to hit me, y'know?"
Next to him, Tallahassee rolls her eyes, Tampa looks away.
(I catch his stare. Deo gratias. Deo gratias. Father, Son, and Violent Thoughts.)
Thank God, I whisper, and I am yelling.
He is split from throat to hip and I drain his open truth.

Speaker static shifts the room,
podium to floor.
This isn't over, he says, and we laugh
because nothing we ever say can be proven,
and we intend to prove it all.