i am the challenger
putting my balled hands up
and covering my face.
protecting my head,
i leave my ribs,
and abdomen exposed.
absorbing body shot
after body shot.
punch
after punch,
they are starting to take
a toll.
i am becoming exhausted.
sore.
memory loss.
sweat building up.
the side-effects of patience.
i wait for the right moment.
waiting.
waiting.
waiting.
for my opponents
to let their guards down
so i can remove
their teeth
with my fucking fists.
left hook to the jaw.
i will smash their skulls
wide open.
swinging.
going for the knockout.
i watch the backs of their heads
bounce off the floor
as their arms go up,
and their eyes roll up
into their brains.
smack!
smack!
i hock a wad of blood and spit
onto the blue canvas,
and raise my arms to heaven.
"who nex!"
"who nex!"
i don't know.
i can't remember.
Cool.
ReplyDeletesorry. i mistagged you in this post, but thanks for the comment. motherfucking sharks was so brutal. so good. and yeah, this poem isn't a challenge to fight you. i'm only 120lbs so you can probably kick my ass.
ReplyDelete