The light’s have faded.
The sun gone.
Clouds impose themselves.
And like this distorted brightness
My mood is fade.
Next year’s exchange idea is glumly hanging.
Floppish. Gnarled and limp.
I wish to travel, learn in an environment.
Live in a share house, be immersed in the French language.
Tough times for you Patrick
I guess you’ll have to be patient and focus a little harder.
Work a little more at your idea.
If you really wanted it you’d jump though hoops.
I will, I promise and guarantee.
Next year I want something different.
I want change.
I can’t commit to this face anymore.
The exhaustion present under the lids of my eyes.
I wish to be lean,
Naked and exhausted in bed.
Energised by new people.
Digging life in a world of contrasting light.
I want new rocks under my feet.
I will the be germ that has travelled the globe.
To see and feel and experience.
Who are you to implicate these barriers?
I will triumph against your yellow tape of organisation.
The human condition;
To drive to new heights compels me.
You think only the olympics is for athletes?
I will high-jump,
Hurdle, sprint, slide, push and pull myself to new and different ways of living.
This year is halfway done. each moment dividing itself.
And with the passing, my mind turns.
The obligation, the white-ness of my soul looks out over the seas and hopes.
“Tahiti blue”- you bet. I’m coming.
I’m coming. I promise.