this is what a kalimotxo afternoon looks like; + the giggles surround the citation orientating itself around in vino veritas, esp. home-made.

within the concept counter to the cartesian
model of *res cogitans,
i.e. res vanus -
for some reasons stranger than otherwise
i am always fed,
    i am fed one thought after another...
i can't think of god as a person,
                 a being of some obscure sense
of a wishy-washy wishing carol of complaints
regarding my argument worthwhile
while itemising parasites...
   i just bypass the whole atheistic endeavour
and treat the **** "thing" as
an object... obviously i am objectional to it
within the atheistic solidarity,
  but i am still subjected to it,
  whether arguing for it's existence,
  or for it's non-existence...
                     so much arises from not thinking,
the reflexive sense of thinking,
   never wasted upon the reflective (frictive)
sense of "thinking", by that i mean:
you writing a book or sumthin'?
the moment i stop "thinking" i.e. narrating
is the moment i am fed a thought
of spontaneous premature "*******"
of this sort...
                       all it takes is a bit of
restraint... **** me and all this "hot" topic
of restraining genitalia...
   i swear to god: you sure you haven't
shoved your head up your **** far enough
to imitate the ostrich looking for china?