the cherished tradition

fight until you have nothing left. brawl away the feeling to your knuckles are black and blue with birthmarks. bite the only handheld you've ever know. scratch you way to another love line across your back. a lifeline, wireless, left in a cab. throatslash till that temptress gurgles to death on her own pretend. shatter the mirror from seven years ago again and again. fight down that last drop of liquor quicker than she could accuse you of being waterlogged. separate yourself like your parents did. beat the wall like your father bruised open your mother's grill. sigh at the sai side of the kill syndrome. you worthless, excuseless, tasteless, faceless...excution time. fight the light like eyes in the sunshine. dig a trench and have men run to the next through poison smoke. cough up your pitiful lungs. learn how to spot a terrorist by the book in his hand. burn all the books. handcuffs, 50-50 parachute cord, and zipties to get by. get drunk. violent fucks. shave down slugs. obey the command to fire when you see them blink. wounds don't heal right in real life. barroom bullyfoot with pool sticks. crack joints. decimate entire armies and eat their munitions. we admired great solutions to complex problems. probate court ain't shit. swing fists like you observed when you were younger. pull razors and oxes. pull police batons and knightsticks. make an example out of the next nobody that stomps across your Pumas. end him before you end yourself.