and i will immerse my index and ******* into the breathing grave of winter, of wetted belgian mud like railway lines expanding and contracting, so too the earth, and thus leave my thumb to be akin to Caesar's daffodils, prematurely sprouting in january: but the godhead of gladiators aching for their river styx to rekindle the zenith moment with shout clap blood-thirst & applause at the coliseum that leaves the koranic promise in comparison a foetus of faeces; what a lazy paradise; male lazy is called philosophy which women call idiocy... i call female lazy anything else but, a sort of aesthetic conglomeration.*

raise your children among dogs,
and your earliest adults among
felines: so that the former may
ring-bell-true an attachment of
feet unto print of the sphere,
and the latter work with a "bias"
of solipsism of ventured into
so many priestly truths dog-collared
for a lack of readership but awaited sermons;
only by reading does the priesthood become
worthless and funny due to the chosen attire.
for god be but a poly-solipsism or a diamond
mirror, each on the path to such a meeting
will see himself clearly and no other,
and with himself seen, will claim no false
knowledge of the other he once claimed
for the worth of the ridiculing joke.