Sunday, October 14, 2012

The fighter

Fire, fire, fire
Like rage, like nothing
The fixating sound
of the crimson
Pumping, pounding
In empty ears
Blood like fire
Fire like what?
Rage like nothing
Like the ripped sea crashing
Pumping, pounding
Shattering hearts
Ground fine like sand
Retreating down
Vermilion running
Feet with wings
Pumping, pounding
on dark wet pavement
Steam like a kettle
Fighting words
Gliding, swaying, ducking
With no defining consequence
Iron hot cadence
Drools off restless lips
Painting violence
On this silence.
Fists pumping pounding
With blood like fire
Fire, fire, fire
Rage like what?
Fire like nothing.

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