Step into the ring fists a flying
blood stained ropes
splotch covered canvas
smashed mouth shakes all the way through my body as I fall backward,
ropes bouncing me back
g-forces whipping the sweat off my face
like a dog shaking after a torrential downpour.
No time to ask myself what's the fighting for.
Rotund Rasputin snickers mouth full
chicken feed dribbles onto the carpet,
tied tight locks
down right pad locks and dirty knots
and a dead bolt on the exit door.
I turn to face a battle royale where everyone's against me.
Eyes lean forward as my mind leans backward:
remembering that once I saw the finish line
as a mirage rising murky on the highway,
and drank deep from a dreamworks spigot
of hallucinations and out of body experiences,
one or the other or both at once confused my senses,
and what is real fades in and out
comes round about
circles in swirls hot tub thermostat shoots to the moon
and Alice it's at 110 degrees
so hot it burns.