To live with Cody is to be boxing (constantly)
whether it be Round 1 or 17 we wail on each other endlessly
taking hit after hit, putting up with our endless diatribe, verbal scorn or just plain straight madness.
Earful after Earful, match after match until he gets in a swift uppercut to my jaw, or i a quick jab to temple.
But this is more than just a battle,
it’s also a dance
a more delicate art style rather than a fight. We
two dancers, gliding in and around the ring, weaving to & fro
dodging each way and that, our movements intricately entwined. Floating
here and there until we come crashing into one another, under such precision and
consistency that blows are but mere flickers. Strikes made with force
disperse to nothingness and air, as we flit away
We aren’t much of warriors
rather we win by
Seeing who gives in to each other’s nonsense first, or gets fooled like a charm.
Its tiresome, It’s weary, It’s fun
but bruised and bloody, now what’s another punch?
to get a quick laugh, or hearty chuckle
Or a blow to the gut, as long as I can get my jabs in I’ll be okay
with just squandering your time, ghouling around or
dancing around your head in circles (laughing like a madman)
Until we began to fall down
neither winner, nor loser
just sore, tired, and happy.
I made it through this round,
We better get ready for our next match