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Friday 28th December 2018.

Time ticks just past 3am...One rush of rubber tyres on tarmac slips past this rooms window...i am not alone awake...i hope climbing from the pit at this hour of darkness does not become a habit...perhaps the goblins of the night have had enough of the festive push and pull trying in vain to pull apart my old tattered bra strap, have now slipped home to their own bed of dreams perhaps someone next to them will snore and thus push out the boat of sleep to the outer reaches of the impossible dream.
The last Samurai is so far out in front i cannot even smell his footprints as this year 2018 begins to fade away to the dust bottoms of history books, old magazines stacked in piles found in nostalgia shops sometimes for a few pennies or like a copy of a thirty year old Playboy magazine thirty pounds....naturally it was wrapped in plastic far to high on the shelve to even pinch ones skin just to handle such treasure...i did not buy it...as i smile to myself thinking back to the first time i did indeed reach up and buy one of those soft porn magazines in the early 1970's...in fact most of my pocket money in the day went on such treats masturbation was then a wonder drug for myself at least...i often wonder where and how those whom bared all..are now... i always hope in some old chocolate box pictured cottage growing roses.
Time to drift back beneath the sheets just in case sleep passes me by once more as the rush of rubber tyres grows for i wish to be fully awake when i step out into the light of the brave new day on planet earth...so Goeth.

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bichoose
bichoose

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