Busting Balls

I love the sound of bones cracking.
There is no other sound like it.

Sometimes I Crack em myself.

You gotta understand I'm no poet. I offer no revelations,  or deeper meanings. No interest. Just bones.

And write down what I hear in these crackles and snaps.
But I'm no poet baby.
These are just mean sentences that try to mimic my eyebrows.
Rough, ugly and kind.

They break your bones baby. Breaking knuckles. Breaking thunder. Breaking frowns.

I'm the pummeled boxer after the 12th round.
The broken stool at a bar fight.
A broken condom.

& I'm winking at ya.