the nights you fight best
are
when all the weapons are pointed
at you,
when all the voices
hurl their insults
while the dream is being
strangled.
the nights you fight best
are
when reason gets
kicked in the
gut,
when the chariots of
gloom
encircle
you.
the nights you fight best
are
when the laughter of fools
fills the
air,
when the kiss of death is
mistaken for
love.
the nights you fight best
are
when the game is
fixed,
when the crowd screams
for your
blood.
the nights you fight best
are
on a night like
this
as you chase a thousand
dark rats from
your brain,
as you rise up against the
impossible,
as you become a brother
to the tender sister
of joy and
move on
regardless.
— Charles Bukowski