I picture my rage like a church bell, bang,
come now or hell! My fists bunching,
the storming forward. "Are you starting?"
Fear mingling with stagnant *****
into chyme. Screams engulf my mind;
you have been ******* around for way,
way, way too ******* long. Smack.
Fist collides with paper soft skin, kick.
You groaning on the floor, fight night.
Come first light the high subsides,
I will wash my bleeding knuckles and dig
your fractured skin from between
the semi-precious stones in my rings.