Fist Fire with a Friend.
Firing a fist, direct hits still miss, my head sinks to abyss, the words slur to a lisp. Throw a punch at a friend, bones don’t break but bend, thoughts can comprehend, so swing yet again. Turn me to an animal, feed a content mood some adderal, till fumes raise high its ladderal, recoil strikes collateral, the taste of blood, cannibal. I wear the blood but not my own, to fight not him but just a clone, to shut his eye & break a bone, Back down no, I hold my own. Though I tried my best to stop this, I slurred the words are you still concious? God gives the strength to the cold but honest, my back not turned, you astonished? Monster no, the hurt comes out, and hell comes north, from the flames of south, till he spits up blood right from his mouth, & my heart is turned inside out. Puking lungs from the screams I shout, pain turns into moraless doubt. Swolen hands I swear it must be fractured, but a heart still beats from this here bastard, yet god has a plan & it is master, just words from a soul at the moment he’s plastered, adreniline fuses till my pulse goes faster, voicing opinion till the throat grows rasper. Yet I am still here, I hope I made it clear, I am still near, I am not instilled with fear, though I’m streaming but a tear, & fog breaks out clear, stating I am here, & the mind dawns to clear.
