Tapers

December 11

TAPERS

I wax poetic and burn the candle at both ends.  I borrow from the beginning, I steal from the end, coming up short and feeling deeply cheated.  I pass myself off as the time-keeper but am the time-pleaser, arch-traitor selling short the days and hours for approval, not fulfillment.  I put away my true identity: mammal, human, the love of; I have exchanged it for the mask and cape of the Do-do-doer, a tragic figure of myth and legend who breaks the spirit of everyone who attempts the portrayal.  In spite of this the roads teem with actors becoming caricatures of a life less lived.  The world is more than a stage, and I must free powers greater than I to be more than an audience.

Laugh at old jokes and tell new ones.

*

Whose Oxygen Mask goes on First?

Desperation is the fuel which forges my resentments.

When I fear for my survival,

physical, emotional or financial

this will turn my response to your behavior into tinder,

sometimes gasoline and set our interaction ablaze.

Melt all which is steel strong between us

and create a molten mess

from which it will be a struggle to recover.

This is why,

taking good care of me,

attending to my life, and quelling my fears

is the very best way for me to protect you

from my attitude and save me

from a negative balance sheet during my 10^th step.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/ZG5jJR7cY5M

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Space

May 31

SPACE

I stand behind the podium and talk about the event horizon, which brought me into these rooms.  My audience: other unwitting astronauts whose lives, like mine, were deconstructed by the Black Hole of addiction.  Though the time and place may be different, the physics of compulsion and allergy are precise and repetitive.  Nodding heads affirm my calculations to be accurate with the vectors and trajectories of their own experience.  I conclude, with the gratitude of a reassembled life, and pray, with gravity, for my feet to stay on the ground.

Toast your bread with satisfaction.

*

The Attention Tax

Paying attention is the price exacted for living in this society.

A taxation which is like a leach;

it takes the life force, diverts my brain waves,

claims the water rights to my river of thought.

What is left I use to wash off what I can,

never quite managing to feel clean or clear.

I sit in the mud puddle

still unsure if I understand what just happened;

harboring a dark fear of the wave to come.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life