I Broke Your Nose

I broke your nose

We learned

You broke my nose

We learned

I broke my back

We learned

You broke your back

We learned

The fine art of fracture

The fury of fresh calcium

I’d kill to feel

Your baby tooth

Lodged back inside my knuckle

I bet you’d fight god

To throw one last orange

Off that cloud

And shred my last ACL

Once

Long ago

We pondered the opposite of pain

Overlooking the asphalt

That skinned our elbows

And broke our collar bones

It’s not comfort

Not happiness

Nor joy

Some say, pleasure

Blasphemy. Bullshit.

Pain, the mortar and the brick

Pain, the mortar and the pestle

The opposite of pain is not pleasure

It’s weakness

The opposite of pleasure is not pain

It’s strength

I suffer the loss

Of our combat

Suffering, uncontrollable

The blood we spilled on blue shag carpet

But I refuse to mourn you

As a false idol

Of future bliss

Mourning, a choice

The cry for mother’s mercy we learned to silence

Snitches get stitches. We got ’em anyway.

Nah.

Fuck that, brother.

Yet, I’ve become what you felt when you lost your legs.

RIP JPF