no wonder i watch *******, it's a moral struggle these  days  downing a whiskey trying to down america 1930s. al capone would  have  laughed with me i'm sure, and shouted: cuba! cuba! fiddle  castrato!  well, there was the violin to mind in tao when the  castratos  masturbated;. oh look... the pope! where’s my bishop purple  and cardinal red? down the toilet, with the goldfish i’m assured: bobs  the necktie password concerning the onomatopoeia the bubbles made when  appearing: bubbles are called bob... ok?*

it was only an old man attired
in the usual monochrome of gray,
so i walked,
scratched a stone wall,
and by the 2nd gesture similis i
pulled my hand scratching toward my chest
to resemble a stone heart:
equivalent chinese? small is european stone:
writing this i missed six knuckles and felt the rest.