Monday, April 30, 2018

Long Winded

I am trying not to drink
It is an unlearning 
a rewound storytelling
Which could take a long while 
as I come from a long line
of longwinded storytellers
music-making creatures
Pick your poison
or concoct a cocktail
Not that the two have to go hand in hand
but a drink in hand 
often means a story is on its way 
And God forbid you are empty handed 
for your stories may be presumed empty
stirring off handed comments
handed to you
by the slurred forked tongues
of two fisted drinkers
served from their personal
in home
basement bar
of self judgement

Spirits are so entrenched
into the social structure of my culture 
that even the sober can become addicted
to the social pressures applied
by the shame of the afflicted
How early must a child drink
to make their parent feel less
Strip away that history
and I have no family
But at least I have no family to shame it on
Strip away peer pressure
and I have no friends
But at least I have no friends to blame it on
Strip away a lover 
and I have no other 
to frame it on
No leaning 
No naming
No projecting
or defending 
Only enduring 
the voice in my head
that is remaining 
My own story
My own complaining
The energy I spend gas-lighting myself
results in my own unfriending
Locomotivation in reverse
Morale draining
Light heart straining
Making my brain filter all the stories I have left
leaving a distillation
a concentration
an intoxicating libation
of the angry and perverse

If this is not the birthplace
then it is the nursery
the playground
the classroom
the pulpit
the university
the stage
the fraternity
the PhD
of passive aggressivity
Sarcastic mystery
Self depreciating wit
dishonest proclivity
and elevated lubricating tendency
Virtues that make up
quite a ruthless personality

But qualities that do tell
one hell of a good story

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