Lupe Fiasco ft. Ab-Soul & Troi - They.Resurrect.Over.New.
" Too much pride we electric slide, we should be closer
Like soca, not a chain but a choker
I see the sun then the clouds then the vultures
Pay respects in my sensei's sculpture
High as the angel on the Dikembe's shoulder "
The swing of the punching bag mimicked a metronome. Brunette hair swung with every punch and kick and the only company through grunts was the jingling of the chains that shook. The bed was more comforting, the company at home was more warming, a bar would've been more fun but none would ease her mind like right here did. Only the cathartic slosh of the ice-water when she dipped the bloody knuckles deep in the vase served to curb the burn. It had to be this way. She sucked on air when taking them out and wrapping them for the next lap. Always the next lap. Her stomach tightened with the taste of iron in her mouth and the chill down her spine. Again." Too much pride we electric slide, we should be closer
Like soca, not a chain but a choker
I see the sun then the clouds then the vultures
Pay respects in my sensei's sculpture
High as the angel on the Dikembe's shoulder "
It's easy to chew when you've been eating with a silver spoon. Words she'd never say, words she couldn't stomach to think and filled her with fire. When fists struck the bag it was atoms colliding in a LHC- it was a comet colliding with a moon; blackholes struggling to eat one another knowing in the end they'd be one.
What do you know of building it from the ground up? Sweat crawled like fire across her Serengeti skin and she could swear someone had taken a box of matches and struck them against her neck. Hell the name Weapon X wouldn't be mistaken by how heavy her limbs felt. Her legs could've housed Adamantium by how they disparagingly fought her with every swing.
Have you tasted the blood and the sweat of victory souring to defeat and slipping through your fingers? What happened when you pulled too hard on a doll? When the stitching failed and the bag was tossed in half? When your screams were the only thing that made noise or sense anymore? She could feel the sting in her sides like someone was sticking her indefinitely with needles. She'd tried sitting but found that the only thing that really made it go away was the rush.
What do you know of bearing this weight? Along her abs and her legs were the well-hidden trophies of her personal war. A phantom tour between the thick marshes of her past and the entangling forests of today. Cool shades that were a Pollock painting across the canvas of her bones and flesh reminded her every morning of why she did it.
What do you know of walking the tightrope with no safety net? Stumbling to the fridge she opened it to the sight of a rainbow of energy drinks. In the silver irises which screamed anything but normality she traced along their bizarre yet aesthetically pleasing shapes until she found a pink one. Pink with a black label. She tore the cap off and spilled some over her before wincing at the feeling of her sweat getting into her eyes and creeping into those fresh wounds around her knuckles. They'd be healed in a few days time- they always were. But there were some wounds that never did.
What do you know about pouring everything into it and leaving nothing behind? What do you know about being the team? Start to finish had passed in a brief respite of what was- what had become the regular. Tossed into the waste can it joined the mass grave of drinks before it. There would be more tonight, more the fortnight and countless after. This was what it had to be. This is what she had to become.
"You don't know anything." She spoke aloud as she dragged a new punching bag over and kicked the torn one away to the side. A grunt, a lift and it hooked into place. The slosh of the ice-water, the deep inhale that came with it and the clenching of the jaws and toes. It had to be.