sometimes you’re at the end of it and you can’t look back yet
struck down, like a left hook.
disembabulated, towering
over nothing. grasping
perpetually for air. going
round
and round in your head
but round two is coming up.
I ain’t no billy the kid
but I am some southern king
not tied up in enough fishhooks
or fish guts to keep me
away from this fire
and overdrawn night.
goddamn I won’t let anyone take this power from me.
goddamn I won’t lose another fight.
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I believe the voice in this…