The Fencing Response

A missing mouth.

Missing momentum.

A phantom frontal lobe.

Cracked teeth.

Exposed nerves,

Dangling loosely,

Bathing in blood,

Spurting out of

An open gash

On my tongue. 

"I bit it on the way down."

"You were out before then."

She said.

Elbow to the jaw
Brain matter crashing into skull

The SMACK transmitted through 

Sound waves bouncing off the

Garage walls and neighboring houses.

Blood.

Twisted pupils and irises.

Bulbs of orange light suspended

In air.

The fall.

Pavement.

Another SMACK.

More blood.

Pooling.

Forming a puddle

In a depression on the driveway.

Resembling chocolate syrup mixed

With tar from a collapsed lung.

Unconscious.

Breathing.

Spine tense,

Before gradually slipping

Into a supine position.

Sensory receptors congealed with stress.

Arms stiff,

Rising towards the sky,
Unnaturally.

Inert from the forearm shiver.

"I'm sorry, it was an accident." 

She said.

I shrugged my shoulders,

"Don't worry, I can't remember what happened anyway."

She turned away

In the direction of the orange glow

Emanating from the street lights,

Igniting the end of a cigarette with a plastic torch.

Smoke dispersing into the hot, languid air.

"Someone got a video of it on their phone,

And posted it online. It has over 15,000 views already."

"Fuck." I said

Before curling into the fetal position

And resting my head in the center her lap. 

Her delicate fingers were skimming 
Through strands of hair.
Massaging the scalp in circular motions,
My arms went up; 

I pretended to be unconscious.