when language becomes as clarified as mathematics, i'll call each grammatical categorisation a number, e.g. noun (1), verb (2), conjunction (3)... and then i'll ask you to define arrangement, whether by arithmetic or calculus, to define a usage, without mistake, to provide the canvas of theoretical robotics (a.i.) and actual robotics (vacuum cleaners).*

i'd never want to fall in love with the self-love
you write about; the end: and as the wise saying goes:
it takes being cruel to be kind... and people
after my generation deserve more than that...
they came and ruined the world;
oi *******! pork chop me a line!
you're the ones that ruined
the music industry... you bought ****...
you downloaded like mad,
you were the ones that said: free art!
but nit free bread...
you keep it up, insulting Africans,
by sprouting new charity schemes...
keep it up like cotton picking...
keep, the, ****, up...
1st prize a 12" *****... get happy... get analysed...
get the ******* my shoulder trying to make me
be a daddy i never wanted to be for a wedding ring...
as you said... "maybe it's all about the chemistry?"
i guess it is... you thought ester patrons of scent
would never be anything explosive...
but there it was, stared at by the many socially
acceptable voyeurs... and you faked
reading the first page and instead took your top
off for the contrast of importance filling page three;
oh sorry, was i being rude? perhaps realism
is a feminine stance of spelling when the masculine
asks of reality, and neither gesticulate a finite coarseness
compared to the infinity of sandpaper / 5p.m. stubble.
next time i'll be in love i'll be dead...
keep that love for your mother or father
and leave me to live out a finite enjoyment enjoying
threes with hands of what could be easily divided,
minutes and hours... seconds are pet-peeves
and gnats and ticking... ticking...
i can't afford to make my life represented by...
but i can represent billions by the time's division
into seconds stressed... yet still more
raindrops than insects... and still more atoms...
so why quest for an individuality among the numbers,
when among words you over-stressed a concern
to the point of not lacking adequate expression but
with words too for the numbered millionaires and billionaires
you suddenly jested a queen's hand wave on parade
for a miscarriage that wasn't really worded but numbered?
and i guess that's a rare eloquence, as nonchalance is.