Gas-lighting myself

I am taking inventory 

in this personal 12 step program for lying

This mastery of gaslighting myself 

It is a game of strip poker

and I am the dealer

the wheeler

and the chump

What happens when I run out of chips

How many rounds do I get

Who is going to know if I slip

Who will hold me accountable 

Am I a bad person if I bluff to protect myself 

Am I a good person if I take a hit to protect you 

If my honesty breaks your heart

would it still be considered a virtue

If my deceit brings you sweet day dreams

then my sleep is filled with nightmares 

If my total and utter transparency

completely strips you of your self agency

All will be forgiven

if my intentions are pure

with the desire to make myself more self aware

Right?

If the hand I have been dealt

has been a labrynth

through mine fields

of sin and sorrow and wrong

but all of it has been right for me

does that mean my story will be called out

as hustle, justification and excuse

playing, gaming and shade

or will it be met with an effort to understand

that it is really just a misdirection of pain

I am the master gas-lighter

in this recovery program

ain’t nobody counting cards

except me

I am the dealer

the wheeler

and the chump

So place your bets

Show your hand

All trump on the table

All clothes on the floor

No matter what hand you are dealt

No matter what tricks you trade

nobody wins this naked spade game

Unless

you

strip

New Work

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

preachers

teachers

music-making creatures

And

Or

Alcoholics 
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