now i'm going to to finish a
bottle of 70cl whiskey,
catch a mosquito in the bathroom
while taking a ****,
trying to feed it to that
****** reptile in furry disguise
(cats, of all felines have
  reptilian pupils - slits instead
of spheres) - who'll disagree
and i'll feed him the usual crunchy snacks,
when i'll go downstairs and eat
a packet of sushi -
                then i'll go to sleep;
if this isn't an autobiographic
millimetre, when compared to all
other, previous autobiographies,
then i don't know what is:
meaning? as life in the moment,
and written about,
but not as life lived to a moment
equated with scholastic precision
listed according to: the speed of light,
pi, gravity... sure, those facts are
important, and i'd love to write
an autobiography that's merely
a postscript to these facts...
but i've written mine according to
what's also universal and equipped
with the stated scholastic facts: now;
or being oblivious to the power
of images... writing a word softens the blow
where an image would otherwise be equal to a k.o.