First rule of fight club…

Hushed murmurs
swirl among the dust
to gather in discarded piles
swept under the rug by
Corrections staff.

The stench of fear
and resentment
commingles with
anticipation
and the unmistakable
odour of testosterone.

Skill, emotion,
those bulging muscles…
Whatever.
You’re wearing
the wrong uniform, buddy.

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