Sometimes what we need
most is a punch to the face,
Firm, jarring, dental
dislodge,
Proboscis violet
flushed and hung like a red umbrella.
The numb shock of
where did the rocket fist generate
Launched out of the
vestibule of errant fury
Hirsute knuckle
aligned wrist to radius and ulna bashing
Twirling tornado of
agendas as if blame had a god damn thing to do with it
That moment sinking in
the black haze dissipation
That it was your own
clenched ego holding on to the past
Huddled digits booming
in across the bow
Throttling round the
revolution of the planet a year later
Cataclysmically to
release your fingers to let go
By breaking their grip
upon the nutty confines of your cranium
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