replying freud...

   what do women want?

to act as if they're "confused"...

and to be honest?

   i can't be bothered with
this question,

    i haven't even asked it proper,
and i'm already lethargic
about it...

   why do women reveal so little
of their nature?

   i guess playing with barbie dolls
really served us to become
puppets in their grip...

what a boring question!
   who asks that sort of quetion
and can't see the obvious truth?

noble page! pour me another drink!
sure thing, don quixote...
     and why wouldn't man
find much more in "madness"
as he might find in a "woman"?

  to be honest, i did prefer buying
en vogue's singel when
the prodigy's album
    music for the jilted generation
came out...
                  
     ha... so long ago that's it's
untrue...
          even though i take to make
imprints on the sand with my feet,
i am nothing short of the sea,
revising the presence with
  being the schrödinger metaphor
existent outside the realm
of box, radioactivity, and cats...

i am the sea...

     sum aequor, etiam sum flumen,
              per se qua: cogito...

i am the sea, and i am the river,
   as being: being in itself - thought.

  i am the sea in being, but i am also
a river, as being: thought...

women are not "confused" -
   men know this,
and to break away from the supposed
"confusion" crafted abstraction,
  to allow woman her natural state
of existence,
  but at the same time to break away
from her...
   crafting chess, crafting puppeteering...

i lost the ambition of wanting
to know certain things,
to me i find them exhausting...
i don't like lies to begin with...
   and it's so exhausting listening to
a woman who writes her life into
the grave of fiction, without actually
producing a novel...

(ego) sum aequor, (ego) sum flumen,
(ego) sum: labyrinthus.

for if woman has the heart
to weave her fiction over reality,
      man has his mind to do likewise...
woman in stasis:
              within the ratio of
                                    man in flux;
"irony": influx.

           there is no ontological worth
investigating woman,
for akin to kierkegaard's god,
the never-changing god...

                 woman is a tiresome
ontological endeavour, akin to god...
for neither change,
   for both are a home with,
or without a basilica, a home within a home,
or a home without a basis for
permanent residing spheres of interests...
   man impregnates the woman
for continuum...
   as he goes the idea of a god
by ******* his thought, into "nothing":

       icarus cogito ad res "nihil"...

but i wonder... where do moment of
"prohibited" thought wonder into?
            where do moments where thought
does not exact the coordinates
based around a god (0, 0 , 0) wonder toward?

           luckily, toward things of
spontaneous interests...
     like a feral animal suddenly jolted into
its full sensual enthropy,
   such that we too,
become seemingly woken within
the waking hours, bound to an ingeneous path
of revelation and originality...

beyond the **** sapiens, there's the reversal
of the transgender movement...

     **** in flux -
        femina in stasis.
                          
                         with my feet impressed
upon this earth,
   i see no other gate of entry,
            but the many gates of departure.