Week Eight: Life. Writing.

I could turn off the television and never turn it on again.
It seems to me that what we're told is living should be easy.
The self-help market has a corner on it
and everyone else is in to make their buck.
But I wonder about those people
whose livelihood is peddling 1-2-3, Look at Me,
I Did It
So Can You
Now Everything is Perfect.
I know they do not go home at night
with a deep feeling of inner calm.
So how do they sleep?
"Very well, thank you,"
I can imagine them saying
their clean-lipped smiles.
So I keep my distance
not really willing any longer
to feed myself their lies
I could grow fat on them
when the truth--the messy soil of life, the stuff that roots push down into
and leaves push up out of
is so much more nutritious
even if it will leave
its mark on me.