I wrestle with myself
tonight

I fight with my darker half,
my bleaker thoughts,
my niggling doubts

he throws punches,
jabs at my ribs,
socks my eyes,
kicks in my knees

sometimes he hits me too hard,
in too soft a place, and I snap

I erupt

my rage boils over

I barrel back at him,
fists and feet blazing,
my arms stretching out
and then back but never
ringing true to flesh or
bone or anything

there is no way to fight
him because he is right

he’s a master at turning this
all against me

he knows what I know
(how hopeless this life
thing is) and he reminds
me each time I fail and
each time I am just weak
enough to believe him

he loves it when I try
to prove him wrong

(because I never can)

I wrestle with myself
today

I fight against the certainty
that death is the end

that darker half,
those bleaker thoughts,
my purposeless existence
and each constant
reminder

I wrestle with him
each day

he grabs my collar,
shakes me about,
spits in my face, and
calls me a coward

he laughs and
waits for me to burst
into that perfect
inferno

but I don’t, most days,
certainly, not tonight

he’s not getting to me
tonight

so I get up,
wipe his filth off my face,
shrug my shoulders
and leave

he smirks, knowing another show-down
is only a bad day or bad moment away