Losing True

Cruelty comes easily. Anger a given. Rage too expensive to spend. But I find my moments, seize openings.

It helps to have the shit kicked out of you early on. Adults with fat fists, kids with no conscience. Take it in the gut, the ribs, all over the face, back of the head. It's almost lyrical, a song you know. Steady rocking beat. You tap into it faster than you expect. Seasons you for the long ride.

I learned to take a punch from the jump. Was born with two black eyes. Tried to enter the world ass first. Turned around by cold tongs. Bruised the fuck outta my blue-pink skin. No medical slap needed to start my breathing. I emerged screaming, and haven't really stopped.

The last time I got popped was by a woman. Twin shots in the jaw. She was pissed, deservedly so. I drove her mad. She rarely spent her rage, but when she did, the sky opened with coins. I didn't hit her back. Didn't bother to block her blows. I wanted to hear the music again, songs to make me smile.

I keep going back to that building. Smashed walls, smeared windows, wires hanging from broken ceilings. It's usually in the city near the water. Sometimes in a field, parking lot weeds, dogs digging through debris. It feels like home, barren but warm. I see no one, say nothing. Sun lights the dust. Food wrappers crunch under foot. Dried shit in the shadows. A draft blows through broken frames. I smell the street, torn coats on drifters.

Flying must get boring awfully fast. You'd have to wear a coat to keep from freezing. High winds would sting your eyes. Birds are territorial. And if you're not bulletproof, what's the fucking point?

Viewing love as weakness means they've won. They rely on your surrender. How much more will you give back?