Later the young lady
Was not at her
Karate class
So the punk
Had to wait
She was late
Not like her
She said had a surprise for later
And that she had to get to
Class
He was welcome to watch
Every time she made a move
She seemed graceful
Like a warrior ballerina
When the classes were done
For the day
The wild young man
Came up and kissed her.
There something about the feeling
Of his piercings against her lips
That made here want him more
When they came to his
Apartment
The kissing got heavier
And as they undressed
He noticed a two tattoos
Of samurai swords in blood
Running from her hip to her ribs
With his name
Boris that looked like it was written in blood
He was appreciative of it
He said holding her
That’s why your were late.  
She climbed into bed
With him
And he kissed her new ink
Then her thighs
And her womanhood
Again the feel of the piercings
Got through to her
Soon the two kissed
And made intense love.

The odd pair
Woke up
The crazy punk
And the perfect martial artist
Ended kissing eachother
On the lips
And smoothing each other’s
Faces with kisses
While embracing one another
As they wake up
He gets between her
And they started to make love
Before breakfast
But that’s wasn’t planned.  
They got carried away
And soon it got late
She had to leave.

The punk rocker
Brought his
New found love
To his run down Bronx apartment
After his rose’s
Karate lesson
He was sick of
Making out
In a ***** alley
Though those times were
Magical
He wanted to express his love
For her
They kissed
While ******* eachother.
The sight of his tattoos
And the feel of his priecings
Against her face
Excited her
The spent the night with eachother
Sharing
And making love
While hearing the transplants
The martial artist not
Knowing how tender she could be.

Insulated from the chill..
Unless I breathe the ice.

Don't panic,
Just make room.

No one can stop me from entering the doors I've built with my own hands.

I walk through and hear the voices this world whispers,
the worst part is my own words are the harshest.

The devil in my mind I evicted..
Somehow keeps sneaking through the window...

I've seen too much,
and not enough at the same time.

Rounding out my pressure points,
If you touch me I'll feel no pain.

I am better than you..
I tell my ego...
.
.
.
.
.

What a mind trick.

Truth be told, I probably need therapy, or counselling I'm not sure.
But I'm not going to get involved in that.

So instead I go to a karate class twice a week. And it's a good outlet for anger.

Just imagine the person or thing you're currently mad at and go crazy. Punch, kick, fight!

Make it known that you are blazing mad! Don't back down until you have won!

When the class is over, you're probably tired, you've used a lot of your energy, so you can maybe sleep your anger off.

But somedays, you rage does not give up, it sticks with you and you're still not satisfied with the service, you want a refund? Well too bad, you don't get one! Remember, this is not a real therapy session...

Maybe I should go into therapy -- or counselling.

Because even if you fight with all your rage and anger and hate, you won't win a fight if the person you're mad at --

If the person you are fighting...

Is yourself.

With gestures increasingly erratic with every strike
And punts as constant as ink gliding across ivory
Our vigilant artisan gathers his wisdom on combat's eve.

it feels like the blood inside my veins is moving like quick dry cement does ten hours after it's poured
simultaneously a storm brews in them
similar to how mom once brewed soup that tasted of distanced family and bile
bile which still resides in a clump at the back of my throat from the last time i said your name
you are he-who-shall-not-be-named since saying your name is as dangerous as saying Voldemort’s
monochromatic colour schemes make up my world, each day either tinted or shaded
usually shaded because I was told that dark colours are slimming and that thought never left my mind
rain smudges all of the pigments together and even my glasses can't correct my vision
i love rain but my rainbows are always brown-black
like those karate belts you had when you lived
or how she used to mix all of her playdoh together
i used to believe that she created the world that way
god i wish i was right.