Thursday, September 26, 2013

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


 

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