Your Adversary


When it happens, it happens
just slowly enough for you to perceive it.
You find yourself at the threshold
of a believer’s faith,
having just bested the wraiths
of raging ennui who haunt
your hardened heart’s house.
You know you’ve loused up big.
The fates are digging graves,
digging fake fingernails into your back.
Panic attacks from the rear
and you never saw it coming.
You’re an infant again,
gumming on a teething ring.
You’re a mountain spring,
contaminated with uranium.
A geranium, crushed under someone’s heel.
You can spend all day feeling
for the light switch
in the pitch black room of your despair,
but history’s demonstrated
that just because you desire something
doesn’t mean it’s there, that
no matter how many times
you threaten to quit the game,
your adversary still doesn’t play fair.

-r. miller


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