But that doesn’t matter.

What else can I do?
But hold my fist aloft –
Pincushioned by arrows,
Or slugs.
But that doesn’t matter.
None of it does.
only my nose pressed against the grindstone
Already Peeling Bloody.
Haggard old bastard.
Buddha Belly Scarred,
Stretched.
White scars aplenty.
But that doesn’t matter.
Never did.