introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K

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the self validation complex

-the ranting hour - sixteenth of june, 2001-churning

"woman. WHOA, man."~mike meyers, so i married an axe murderer.

ugh. thats all i can say. i don't understand some women. {as you wish, k, darling} i don't understand how a perfectly genuine caring person can be overlooked. i mean, maybe they know something that i don't. maybe he's a bit perverse, but he's honest about it. i dig honesty. its all i ever want. indulge me. anyway....there are some women that want to...that need to, somehow...justify or validate their looks with these horrible means....be it sending their naked pictures over the internet to hungry eyes...cheating on husbands who are wonderfully loving, faithful, and dedicated...spending hours primping in front of mirrors applying layers of makeup for a boy who won't even let her wear shorts to the beach because another guy might look at her pretty stems and ass. and its everywhere i look these days: work, online, out and about. i repeat: i just don't get some women. i think we could all use a little growth. i think i need a cup of coffee and a cigarette and some time to be thankful that i found him when i did....because i'm not like that anymore..and i know better now and lately, its driving me into one big culminating ball of PISSED OFF at the way women are looking at themselves. i know i'm not gorgeous, even though she seems to have been misled and calls me so whenever we talk...but i'm gaining that certain comfort that i didn't have slowly and i'm realizing that beauty isn't in the nude voyeurism or the length of her skirt or the shade of her lilac eyeshadow...its something more. i digress. but here's something, hungry minions.

~what are you gonna do to prove it this time?~

i heard him say it

in a flat voice as though

it wasn't even in question...

as though he knew how wrapped around his finger

she'd become

when he told her it was

too short

too tight

too thin

too pretty

for another guy to see.

and his voice was so monotone

that it hardly seemed real

and when she asked us

if we thought

that tiny adorable summer skirt

was

too short

too thin

too tight

too pretty

we both looked at each other

and then to her

and disagreed heartily

in tonal voices

that sang out

contrasting his

monotone bullshit.

what the fuck

do boys know

anyway?

and when i saw her

naked breasts on the screen

in a dozen pictures

he was sending

after hearing

a paraphrased tale of deceit,

i was sad for her,

for the look in her eyes.

and she was never going to meet him

just toying with his heart

which was seeking some solace

and comfort

and companionship.

and i'd heard him talk about her before

and i'd seen pictures of her sunny smile

but that smile melted into

tawdry pictures of

feigned comfort

in front of the

watchful eye of

the digital camera....

that smile melted into

nothing more than

breasts

and hips

and ass

and cunt

and that

sunshine smile

hardly seems an appropriate mask

for what must be inside....

a hurting woman

just waiting

needing

wanting

those words

that tell her

"you're pretty"

"i'd fuck you"

"nice ass"

to validate her womanhood;

to validate everything

she thinks she needs to be.

and i'm so goddamned sick

of

seeing

hearing

watching

knowing

whats going on in those heads...

molding women

out of flour-water putty

only to crush them

and tell them

its too short

too thin

too pretty

breasts

ass

hips

and cunt.

where did all the beauty go

and what comes next?

what else can you do to

prove it to yourself

that that body

is enough?

...pretty enough....

......lovely enough....

touchable

tangible

loveable

sexy?

what are you gonna do to prove it next?

and we fast forward

to her

who was you

ten years ago

looking to him

for a little validation

with the infidelity in her eyes

and i don't know you,

but i know her

and knowing one is enough....

because you all seem the same to me...

leaving

PERFECTLY GOOD MEN

broken in your insecurity,

shattered in your self images

and smashed in your

need to prove it all the time....

running to another

instead

just breaking yourself

for faulty men,

becoming women who

know to do only what they're told

and doing exactly as he says,

sewing yards of length

onto that

too short

too tight

too thin

too pretty

skirt

to cover up

bare

breasts

and ass

and thighs

and cunt

that sure looked good

in that pretty little skirt

when you met her,

you bastard...

and i don't know what it is

about women these days

and the self validation complex....

but i think that

some women are only as good

as the company they keep

and what are you gonna do

to prove it next time?

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.what came before. - .what happened next.

a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017
baseball season to football season, abbreviated - 25 september 2017
the doodles - 11 july 2017
at arm's length - 4 july 2017
like a sea-mammal needs a bicycle - 30 may 2017

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