Knuckle Fire
Flashing lights buzzing like nerves right before the fist connects,
tar-black night wrapped tight around every violent memory I dragged here,
bone grit under my nails from every lesson I delivered
and received,
boot prints on asphalt like a map of every bad decision I kissed on the mouth
and never apologized for once,
jaw squared, shoulders locked,
inhale slow enough to feel the cold eat the lungs,
I don’t bark, I don’t pose,
I walk forward and memory follows with swollen knuckles
and no forgiveness waiting at the end of any street.
The stink of blood never leaves leather once it soaks in deep,
and I stopped trying to wash mine clean years back
when the last soft part of me died on a curb outside a gas station,
teeth rattle like loose change when you hit a man right,
and I hear wealth in violence,
a golden note cracked out of cartilage and old grudges,
call it rage, call it hunger,
call it the last animal still awake
when the rest pretended to be civilized for peace of mind,
I call it breathing.
Break jaw, split lip, taste iron while the night goes numb,
boot heel on collarbone, hear the snap like a war drum,
I don’t give warnings—only what I do with my fists,
blood is the only line I draw when I’m cornered like this,
I take what I came for, I drag the rest into the dirt with me,
this is my come-and-fucking-get-me.
You want some?
No story to tell here, just the feel of weight, angle, timing,
the quiet poetry of knowing how a rib bends right before it gives,
scars speak in a language only the scarred can read,
and my whole body reads like scripture carved by fire and rage,
every person who ever tried to break me still walks with a little limp,
their soul rests where my shadow never left,
I never yelled victory; I just walked away breathing.
That’s the only prize I ever needed.
Knuckles buzz with heat long after the final strike stops moving,
exhale fogs the air, slow and steady,
the drum of a heart that never asked permission to keep beating,
call me monster (monster), call me freak (freak),
(bastard) call me everything you whispered behind doors
when you thought no one listened,
I answer to nothing but the taste of iron
and the promise that I won’t stop until everyone remembers my name.
Quiet now
no sirens no flashing lights
no screaming no red
just the hum of streetlight and blood cooling slow
(we gotta go we gotta go we gotta go)
if I fall, the asphalt will remember the weight
if I stand, the night will widen for me
this is my come-and-fucking-get-me.
No hero in this prayer, no halo waiting,
only a heartbeat with teeth
and a fist forged for anyone who steps wrong,
I walk alone
not for pride
but because I keep breaking everything that tries to walk beside me,
hands still shaking—not from fear, but from wanting more,
war never ends
for the kind of men
who never learned how to stop the fight inside.
Call me monster (monster), call me freak (freak),
(bastard) call me everything you whispered behind doors
when you thought no one listened,
I answer to nothing but the taste of iron
and the promise that I won’t stop until everyone remembers my name.
Break me, split skull, taste of iron while I go numb,
boot heel on my collarbone, I hear the snap like a war drum,
I didn’t get no warnings—only the crack snap boom of falling fists,
blood is the only draw when I’m cornered like this,
took what I came for, dragged the rest into the dirt with me,
they came-and-fucking-got-me.
This is my come-and-fucking-get-me.
Break jaw, split lip, taste iron while the mind goes numb,
boot heel on collarbone, hear the snap like a war drum,
I don’t give warnings—only what I do with my fists,
blood isn’t the only line I draw when I’m cornered like this,
I take what I came for, I drag the rest into the dirt with me,
this is my come-and-fucking-get-me.
You want some?
Come get some.
This is my come-and-fucking-get-me.