no fight without a light

Nightly— in my victory—

I grasp again for the

broad medal,

the justification of this constant struggle.

This tortured intellectual toys with words—

confusing the code

for no one to follow.

I am not myself;

indifferent to the world as well. 

If I am fighting,

I am fighting a shadow;

nothing noted,

nothing wanted—

an unintelligible darkness

passing with the sun. 

Is all there is merely 

figments of contrast?

products of enlarged, enlightened thoughts?

If there is a cause,

that cause is a phantom;

grappling with self-worth

negotiating with a flickering flame

that debates with survival—

rationalized and unfulfilled. 

Chronicles of June

Pt. ONE

June learned the skill a little before others.

She holds the cigarette lightly in her mouth, 

and lights up. 

She gulps down smoke 

Like a baby gulping milk from a bottle,

and dreams about dreaming. 

She speaks to herself in code

hoping no one will figure her out:

figurativeness, metaphors, and unintelligible exclamations.

Then, bitterly, she tamps out the burning filter

as though it was another year of her life.

Pt. TWO

Fantasies of 

Brushing aside strands of careless hair,

and kissing her as if

the world had always meant them to;

as if consequences were as important as the tokens of a board game.

June makes plans to drink herself to her senses,

and realize the senselessness of the universe.

One kiss—

so small and insignificant. 

And its unimportance justifies the action;

And its unimportance paralyzes her in the act.