Broken nose bleeding humility's blood. That punch in the face that waters the eyes. That crack to the noggin that spins the outside world. That ringing in my ears is the only thing left after the egotistical delusions fall away.

I am humble tonite. Humble as this fight's looser. Wondering whose side I should have been on all this time. Never to argue this evening. Never to respond in agreance neither. Just empty listening stares. The real kind of listening when I can't even nod my head to urge your continue. I am not processing. I am taking in. I am below any Thinking I Know tonite.

I do not know. Obviously. I was wrong. Again – oh, this learning circle. I thought I was good at something. But I do not know how to dance. I do not know how to act. I do not know how to Love. I am not free. I have just been faking my self-definition so convincingly that I even thought I was doing it dead on. But only myself and those who are faking it too believed I Knew Something.

The real ones are reeling. Like me.

When we get to that reality (oh, this learning circle), where do we go? How do we admit that we are so distracted by whom we have been convincing the other convincers we are, that we forgot we are no one and now we can’t muster the finesse to make it matter in this moment.

Drowning in reality. Not the blaring kind. The bleeding. Hesitant to recreate and risk redecorating this crooked septum with another fine fist.

I bow to your forceful disintegration. I am in need of nothing anymore.

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