you end up akimbo on a windowsill... thoughtless...
                                                  ­  donning sunglasses: but it's
                the night... so: huh?
          "trying" to meditate the whole
encopassing scenario...
      and you drink your spiced ***
and white *** and coke and go into
a lapping mode: mmm... yum yum...
tastes like chocolate! why hasn't anyone
bothered to tell people this *** and ms. pepsi
combination tastes like chocolate?
    synthetic, i'll give them that:
             but it still tastes like chocolate...
        it usually begins as it usually ends:
ah mate... i feel a little bit constipated...
                  also called a hanß zimmer equivalent
in a music box with that twirling ballerina
                composed on the basis of: the davy jones theme.
you cry a little, and then you forget the reason
for crying... and then you take pleasure out of the act...
and it's like: try try, try bring fail... ignore ignore,
                    and happiness will find its trail.
   i swear i spotted an old schoolfriend in the supermarket
today... i didn't say anything... but i have a photographic
memory, so i'm pretty sure it was him...
         mervin...
                              that was his first name...
                                labrador eyes... you know those
naive dumb goo eyes? yeah... that was mervin -
                  and i was like:
      what the ******* doing here?
               i swear you once posted that you had
           a pilot's license and could fry... oh ****... fly
an aeroplane?
                                   i can't believe i remember
the guy's name... it's such an odd name...
     but my photographic memory doesn't fail me...
if i've seen a face... give it 20 years and the ageing
process: i'll still sniff it out and rearrange the features
to ensure that i'm right...
                  i get it from my grandfather
but even he said: i give up, english suburbia is
exhausting...
                              i need pointers...
                if you think north london was bad...
try: south of the thames.
                                 they said communism was bad,
but then there's my grandfather, retired in his 50s...
                and i'm like: given this economic climate?
me retired in my 50s? phat chance of it happening...
          some say it was the result of communism,
others: the solidarity movement...
                 either way: i can't argue the point against
the old guard that encompassed the warsaw pact...
                      i already stated: they confuse communism
with the interim years of the martial law 1981 - 1983...
    westerners get all fuzzy with the details...
           people were expecting a soviet invasion...
but look at **** wałęsa in his florida shorts taking
selfies in miami these days...
                                   my grandfather owned a personal
library for ****'s sake... and this is under communism...
my father used to play water polo and bridge...
and this is the reality of living under the iron curtain...
now what do i have? a brothel of a nation...
exports to saudi arabia...
          and you're wondering why i took to enjoying
the company of actul prostitutes from the ukraine and
bulgaria?
           you're really making the: aha hum mmm statement?
at this point in time i really wish i had a magic
trick analogy...
                        something akin to a pencil
and smashing a ****'s eyeball into it to make it disappear...
but i'm low on these sort of tricks...
    all i have is a bottle of *** that's spiced
to the extent that i'm drinking liquid chocolate...
   and i have a full english brekkie
                                          to lullaby me to sleep with
my usual painkillers.