yeah, i met my "future" wife-to-be at
university,
   we were engaged,
   she was russian,
   obviously there came a pressure
within the framework of
      cultural "differences",
historical *******,
         why polish children under
the communist regime were forced
to learn russian, and few ever
came to be fluent in the tongue...
but then i met my wife...
    what a beauty,
  i was introduced to her by david hume,
and partially by karl popper...
    i was sitting in those lecture
rooms thinking -
    just shove me back into the lab.
and let me do what i'm supposed to do,
**** the electron migration theory
in organic experiments...
  but no...
       i was also looking for a half-way house
between science and the humanities,
humanities being my closet-love-affair,
history, literature...
         i could have been the ****
in the humanities brothel majoring
in history or literature...
nope... had to bite the grit of science...
  but then i met my wife, sophia...
**** it, she's the one that gets me out of
bed every day, she concerns me,
she nourishes me,
    i admit, it can sometimes become stale
with her, her book's worth of ****,
   and my the ******* wriggling maggot brain
book worm...
              ah, no relationships are
perfect, after all...
                    but safe to say, she loves
my compulsion within the realm of music,
how i even had to listen to it when falling
asleep,
   she doesn't mind me not talking,
she doesn't mind my drinking habits,
  she doesn't mind my nonchalant fashion sense,
she doesn't mind my many more acknowledged
vices,
    the perfect woman, that is philosophy...
i mean, you can't learn this woman,
  you can't tame her, you can't exactly do
anything with her, apart from living a parallel
life, next to her...
            sooner or later, she becomes
the feminine aspect of the diety i call god
      within rodin's the kiss sculpture...
then i start thinking about the kiss of a leech...
it doesn't exist, but i like a moment to stare
at a phantom image... freshly conjured
in my mind...
                    and as you might expect,
when you don't study for solidifying a certain
enterprise that's worth "studying",
and find yourself imbuing the essential
   aspects, extracting a personification -
when you study the rigid orthodoxy of
            chemistry, physics or biology,
     and you get a nibble, an inkling into
the half-way house that's the membrane
seperating science and humanism...
         well...
                    let's just say this is what sartre
wished he had...
             the flood-gates open,
    anter the tornado, the tsunami,
                 the laxed muscles,
  the sweat from the arm-pits rather than
        the sweat from labour upon the brow,
        the lack of idle deeds:
                                 and the devil's hands.