Hell is the Mohegan Sun
round 9, fight 1
the green glow of the soft sad eyes of the man across from me
inscrutable, a thin line contempt and pity
the agony i feel as my ribs shatter
intensified by the bright lights of hell
bearing down with immense heat as i crumple to a knee
struggling not to weep or wail in pain
the gnashing of teeth is ever present
just as God foretold.
whatever stupid pride i possess forces me up
attacked again without abandon
the countenance of the man never changing
a soulless machine with the eyes of my grandfather
bearing his namesake
unleashing Hell upon me
but i don't dare drop to my knees again
until the bell rings
the round is over
but i know better by now
it is not round 10
there will never be a round 10
it will always be round 9
again
again
again
again
again
again
again
again
AGAIN
