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.