In the Scuffle

presense- not one of the 5 senses- void (destroyed) unemployed due to lack of necessity. everywhere i go, they stare, they see the stain that's still there. ears prick, the mutts begin to lick their lips, take sips of the sins i drip. dominant studs, covered in mud, smearing me with their prodding snouts. but i'm the b---h, i must scratch their itch, & leave them & run, utterly numb, having spilled my senses in the scuffle. i'm the cause of trouble, the liability, my capabilities punishable by law. there is no last straw, the players keep pulling & pulling- ensuing the brawl. bounce me about, i'm your little toy, shoot me far, slam dunk me- down the hole. the game will be yours & i'll again do what i'm told. startled by the light, i sneak away from the lonely fight, sneak to where everything's all right. so many things we shared, such useful things you dared to teach. thru the blurry air, i continued to reach, waiting for the grasp that would pull me out.