Nice protection, wearing my skin,
nice way of avoiding my ire.
Nice way to insure your assets
when half of them are mine.
How could I act without mercy
when it’d be my blood on the wall?
Why must I always stay my fists
though you never flinch at all?
If it’s love that gets you off the hook
it’s only love that keeps you there-
a privileged exception to the rule,
of flesh and teeth and hair.