I've dipped, and dodged punches my whole life,
I'm just waiting for one to hit,
well-connected, powerful, and right on the chin.
Let my jawbone dangle,
and my teeth bounce like ritalin-infused piano keys under the fingers of children with all the resolution and sway of newborn trees.
I'm just waiting for stitches,
black eyes, and that whiplash effect,
there is no count of ten,
bitterly jarred, and stream of conscious.
I've fought back,
mounted and swung full force,
crushed nose, separated collar,
forehead in the lap,
these are my decrees.
And by degrees, I'm exhausted,
Looking anxiously in the corner,
wondering "where in the fuck is the towel?"
But there is no towel,
sweat falls through my eye lids,
melting my eyes in a state of constant
I'm swinging wildly, hoping for the knockout shot,
But still, underneath, I'm waiting for a devastating blow that will rattle my senses,
make my frail, little frame wobble from even the slightest caress.
Come on and bruise me,
have your way,
paint my face only in scarlet hues.
I've played long and dearly for you,
now the time has come.
Baby you need to collect your dues.