The Night you Taught me to Fight

Fists raised
similar in stature
I flatten my fist

I am a punching bag

Paperback arms slam my fingertips
He shows me how loyalty converts into violence
It's not just the hardcovers that pack the punch

They shuffled at our feet
among pens and college-ruled fibers

But erect like wrecking cranes
We tore at each other with our clenched finger tips

And you hate to crease but for some reason I like to
crumple you like every bad idea in the bin

You're taking fire to my ankles
they can't take the heat

but take the fucking ink and drench me in your lies
because I want all I can get
turn the handle like a jack in the box suprise
and it'll come out like a jack in the face

we'll let the deep red flow from your nose
darker than a jack in the coke

because the ink will always bleed.