Black and Blue Prints
Building hell from plans I found in the attic; furnishing it with what was left in the basement didn’t make a life but it did keep me occupied. Activity insulates me from living; camouflaging the windswept landscape I claw across turning my face from the oasis believing I have perfected a mirage. I have battered my hope and tied her in the corner the corner which I built from the blue prints I used to turn my life black
Turn up in the best places, turn up when needed, turn up the corners of your mouth
THE DEALS I’VE MADE
Because they are deals and not resentments or secrets
These circular schemes did not come out in my fourth step.
They didn’t come out in the wash.
They come out whenever they are broken.
If the deal is-Don’t eat pickled herring
And you won’t remember X
The deal will be broken when pickled herring
Is served to me at some social gathering.
As I get healthier, the breaks connect evermore deeply.
What in early sobriety would have given me unexplained discomfort
Now gives me full-blown flashbacks
And I watch the deal unravel.
I wasn’t supposed to eat this
Because this was on my plate——-When
But now that it’s on the plate here—-Now
I have to face this ugly roiling mess.
The deals saved my life
But unless they are handled with care and honesty
They can cost me the life I have now.
I must choose a safe person and place
To share these broken shards with.
Living alone with this will not work
And making it public fodder is a setup as well.
In every one of these deals
There is a back door to a drink
And therefore WE have to go out the front door together.