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
preachers
teachers
music-making
creatures
And
Or
Alcoholics
Addicts
Addicts
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
restricted
conflicted
dismissed
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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