I run around the block of me
as the block is my disguise.
It is my way
of being separate from myself,
involved with self method
as dialogue
which I cannot claim
as my being.
Though complicated
from the outside in,
it seems too natural to occur
without objection or fanfare.
If I intake an experience
from it to myself,
a thousand goodbyes
said to myself inside later
does not mean
I have left or am leaving.
As uncomfortable as it is,
it is just something I do
as we all do
to be part of the reality
we retain as frame.
I fill time in between
with small pleasures
and preoccupations
and further bouts
of subsequent turmoil
with friends
I really like
and care for a lot.
I cannot be myself
authentically
without recourse of this kind
and so I identify
by this method
and upkeep.
Sure it is custodial
and I have come up
with a logic for it,
but it is seldom
inwardly expressed.
This, as a work permit,
does internally justify
my existence to me.
But if there are accusations,
inside of me made,
they are only the seeds
of self-doubt,
damp and sprouting
in dark places within . . .
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