What I Do With Emotions That Poop In My face

I start with Ten. I brace myself and pick it up then;

I pick Emotion by her pinkie toes.

I wring my essence from her throes.

I count to Ten.

One I love.

Two I love.

Three I love, I say.

Four I listen to what she has to say

Five I throw it all away.

Six through Ten is a by the way

As I keep the conflicting emotions all at bay.

I guard myself

I firm my hold.

I brace myself;

Position my head

So the sunlight casts a glint in my fiery eye.

I ground my feet; dig into the earth

With my naked heel.

I put some urgency in my veins

And feel the fire coursing through like molten rock.

I clear my windpipe and sneak a roar into my throat.

I am ready now.

Ready to take it all out

In this winner-takes-it-all bout

This is what I do

 To emotions that poop in my face.

 I start with the toes.

 I count to ten and rip them all

Out of their sockets one by one.

 I twist and pull the hurt and watch it bleed.

 I push them back in only to do it all again.

Harder this time. 

Faster than last time.

 I pinch her lips and hold back her scream.

 I turn the key and watch her buckle in pain.

 She looks at me in disdain.

Bloodshot eyes egg me on.

 I pinch harder and harder until a chunk of flesh calls it quits

 And disengages from those bloody lips.

 I shift gears and for a while, I let her breathe.

 Just for now.

 I let her breathe through snot and tears

And foamy blood as she appraises me

 With a murderous swollen glare.

Emotional being blasted to the ceiling,

Devoid of all feeling is what I am become.

Black pot to the kettle

Trumpeting her mettle

Letting loose her spittle

Forgets she is just as black.

I am just as black

Just as winded and bloody as hell.

The bravado melts leaving me a shell

Retaliating for what I lack