November 2
When I am left to amuse myself, more often than not I turn
my wicked wit to redress those whose neglect, I sorely feel; this is
childish. This is pointless and yet I do
it and do it well. I am, too good at
being alone and I resent it and resent every necessity for honing that skill
set. When in the past I have made my
mind up to accept seclusion each overture is a slashing intrusion. I am not a happy medium, though I do doubt if
such a thing exists. I am an attention
seeker when I am not I am an isolation monger.
The wavering nature of human interaction is an uncertain sea for me,
alternating downing me or leaving me washed- up on some remote shore. Even amid those I love the most, I am a
skinless writhing neonate, hyper-reactive and living on the edge. I somehow know the answer is self-esteem or
spiritual development, but when in the midst of this imprudent reaction the
paths to these are lost. I try to hold
my breath when underwater, when on the beach I try not to breathe the
sand. If I survive today I may grow out
of this tomorrow.
Make peace with your pillow before bedtime
*
DESERVING
Tender toes crushed by moving memories
Fresh pain from ancient injuries
Shock incurred from these lifeless reminiscence
Unhappy reconstructions slap inspecting faces.
The people who stood by
To let the chips fall where they may
Try to pretend innocent bystanders now
That shit is falling from the sky.
Unexposed skin will burn when the flames leap high
Idiotic excuses will not retard the fire
Of injustice coming to call
Too late tears carry no freight with the past recipients
Of the “It all runs down hill” award.
Cowards make themselves cripples
And fracture at the force of incoming reality
And deserve more than they get.
Tender toes crushed by moving memories
Fresh pain from ancient injuries
Shock incurred from these lifeless reminiscence
Unhappy reconstructions slap inspecting faces.
The people who stood by
To let the chips fall where they may
Try to pretend innocent bystanders now
That shit is falling from the sky.
Unexposed skin will burn when the flames leap high
Idiotic excuses will not retard the fire
Of injustice coming to call
Too late tears carry no freight with the past recipients
Of the “It all runs down hill” award.
Cowards make themselves cripples
And fracture at the force of incoming reality
And deserve more than they get.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to
Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
