September 17
Ovoid
I can pretend at this normal life for a period of time then
the plaster starts to crack on this white picket fence and it’s all down hill
from there. I am better than I was; I am
happier and more well adjusted, yet I am still far from fitting with the
standard fittings, I am an off size, my threads run counter to the average
fixture, I spent too much time on the rack to resemble anything from off the
rack. It’s not that I am so special; it is
just that I am Special Ed. Performance anxiety and paranoia regularly take me out of round though even
with these kept at bay I am not your normal nut. I assure you that you can dress me up and
take me out, just don’t try to take me home.
Remind yourself of your friends
*
WEE HOURS
In the wee hours I hear the high pitched wail
the tiny pest whining in my ear
the onset of my thin stretched nerves reaching
their end.
A few more hours are required of me tonight
I rally my spirit and lift the edges of my willing
resolve.
Long slow nights carry me to far corners of my
mind.
I am more average than I had imagined or hoped
for.
The commonness of four AM brings base to
disclosure
the charmed exposure of predawn wakefulness.
The fuzzy vibrations in my brain make me feel deep
and real
Vulnerable to all the normal limitations of nature
and caprice.
The sun will rise, ending this night.
My sentry over I will fall to earth, and rest, and
bed.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to
Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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