Glass jaw
Taking a punch can be pedagogical
A glass jaw can lie through glass teeth— rattling. A mouthful of costume jewellery, calling itself concrete, chiming like crystalline teardrops on a chandelier inside of a condemned hotel— shuddering with the thrum of approaching demolition truck tracks. Glass jaws have a way of attracting… far less fragile things, like this. But taking a punch can be pedagogical, you know? And when that carpal meets the soft tissue of you— I hope that you learn to take one, or try to, at least. Because it never rains, as they say, but it beats you repeatedly in the face with a cinderblock. Hell, it shatters glass jaws for breakfast and swallows the shards down with glass teeth— teaching, as it were, dispensing enlightenment at the end of a ballpeen—hammering the distance between the Buddha and your body right into your fucking forehead. And in time I hope you learn too, how to stomach having so much to chew on, and nothing to chew with.