there's almost an infinite sadness regarding this topic,
   i appreciate the "inconvenience" of taking a dog for a walk,
but when it comes to my neighbour's dog?
       they pet her as: ζωή / zoé - z'oh'é(h) /
                                            z'oh-ee (ë) -
       and that's that, your diacritical arithmetic
                                                      ­          put in order...
when i was younger i used to own dogs,
       i've really forgotten what's it like, what with
owning cats... you can't get a better parallel to your
own behavioural pattern...
                        cats fake being clingy,
                            they fake being clingy, because
past the façade... they really are.
                     for some reason, or other, every time
i made love to a woman, i thought she was faking
her pleasure...
                       now that's a really terrible concern
to have, concern, or paranoia?
                                it doesn't matter these days,
even though i'm in my masculine prime aged 30,
   and if i were endowed with a solomonic sized harem?
i could keep it pretty fertile in anticipation
                           and reward for the inhabitants...
let's just say: i wouldn't need 100 eunuchs to
       keep the ladies' fancy for frolicking, while at
the same time: ensuring my genetic map was passed
   along each and every one of them...
                            sure, eunuchs later changed
              into castratos... and were enforced for songs
rather than an actual harem being kept...
                but a strange thing happens when you
rekindle your youth...
                      just today i took to petting a dog...
    why then, all of a sudden, does patting
                        and stroking a dog's murderous skull
feel more appealing
                           than utisiling one's mouth and hand
to please female genitals?
                     all i had to do was feed it some
      mortadela (martwa hela)
                                     v      
                and a few pieces of szynka (ham)
                                                  sh
      ­            and patting the *****'s head felt more
resonate to encompass a year's worth of life than
   in that insect infested act of copulation with a woman...
but then pangs in my heart, after the feeding...
    the over-keen dog... tail waggling...
             i've become so detached from owning a dog
that i don't know how to respond to their constant
neediness....
                       still... i have not even explored
my incubant virility, and already i'm writing like an
old man: to be simply content with the company
of animals...
                                á propos:
                  how do the crows enagage in courtship?
pigeons make it ****** obvious...
   they do it with a fetish for voyeurism
                          inverted back onto their activities;
ever see crows do that? ever see crows do what
                 pigeons do in the bright light of noon?
secretive *******... magpies likewise...
                       they do what they do in the night,
otherwise? they'll start attacking cranes in flight...
              you never see crows mating in public,
                                                    like i said... spooks.
       that's why the London consensus regarding
                   pigeons is?                   rats with wings;
and that sentiment is shared in the outer-reaches
                            of this urban monstrosity of a citadel.
crows? has anyone actually filmed their courtship
              theatre before the actual mating is practised?
sure as **** david attenborough hasn't covered it...
                  crows: or shadows in shadow, in night.

yet this much is true... petting a dog's head
           is so much more fulfilling than performing
oral / deaf *** on a woman's genitals;
                                     don't know, it just is.

deaf? yeah... hand... signals... 4's a kit-kat,
   3's a trinity...
                                           2's a party
                                            1's a ***** imitation...
*******? that's for performance artists;
      can lesbians actually exist, if they don't use strap-ons?
surely you are ***** if you rub **** against
**** and don't cheat, having guillotined some
******* model's member off, and moulded it to
                                                  a dingy-dingy-****
(*****); right?