introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K

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The Six Month Plan

03:05:56 - 2000-12-06

i shant dwell on the miles of water,

nor the cold outside thats sneaking in,

making me shiver constantly.

I wont think much of the screaming maniac in the other room,

nor the months til summer.

i'll keep a picture of london rain,

of foggy moores,

of chips and fish and vinegar,

of pubs and foreign green,

of the forest,

of dancing skyclad in sherwood forest,

of some great rite....

i shant dwell on the miles,

the months til the passport comes,

the doubt that greys the glow...

but instead i'll clutch closer

these warmths you're sending,

these shivers of emotion,

visiting me again for the first time in a long time...

so different every time they come along.

i'm pushing away the doubt,

i'm pushing away the shadow, this time.

So much of me has changed in five years,

so am i really the same person all tangled up in

psychological continutity?

I'm ready for the plunge,

i'm ready for the trial, now,

i'm ready for some ritual.

In five years, i've gotten something back of what he stole,

rebuilt everything he knocked down with words,

with actions that stung and burned...

I've learned to rely on myself most of all,

but to enjoy the company of close ones....

to be their pal, but not their object anymore...

I've LEARNED.

These cold nights are like nights past,

when the alien machines would come to remove the snow....

when i saw sunrise and slept the day away....

but there's something more dedicated to myself now...

leaving me open to anything that comes along,

giving it all its fair chance,

and locking out the shadow that always hung over me...

the sound of my own laughter is enough sometimes,

and the space in the bed is

enough to kill me on frigid nights like these.

No, I won't dwell on time zones,

nor citizenship,

nor my numbering years,

nor the dreaded cold that's seeping in the windows,

freezing me up again when you've fallen asleep....

Instead,

i'll keep the light trained

on a picture of hope

taped to the wall in the corner....

I was never one to be swept so suddenly,

but falling is always far and hard....

and difficult to recover from.

its politics and NATO,

its oven fries and jam....

its an accent and a youth hostil...

its all of these things i've never seen...

and i'm falling off of your cliffs,

flailing and comfortable...

don't let me stop falling, baby.

let me keep falling into you.

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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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