the rule of thumb is: you really can't go mad twice, no matter how much you try, it happens only once, and soon enough you regain a footing, on a plateau of lucidity.

and it happened to me, i thought we had a verbal
contract, a sort of understanding,
  some locket of trust -
  as i charmed a swan out of *loch lomond
to her giggling pleasure,
     and charmed her with a bedroom filled
with candles,
      i should have known that with my third
persistent impotence she was trouble -
   by the fourth she turned into melting butter...
i can and will be an *******,
  i gather that, but there's only so much
mea culpa crap i'll mantra into my life,
we had a deal, she even suggested to be on
anti-contraceptive pills, because she hated
the rubber inside of her:
  talk about a reality check in the alternative
universe of ***** latex ***,
where the whole body is attired in a catwoman
outfit...
    never mind...
         and when she called me hysterical
about hearing voice saying: i think i'm pregnant,
i told her: you know what you have to
do? what? get an abortion...
   i'm still punching myself in the face from
time to time about that,
but i only said in shock what anyone would
say in shock, then again,
  being a man: i have no chance at redemption...
by my own honest shame even golgotha is
a ******* **** mountain of insignificance...
    i retracted my position on the "enforcement"
weeks later,
   but but then she was already on track
in her insidious ways... wooing another worthy
pundit...
     i'm not painting a picture of a saint,
just another schmuck who stumbled upon a great
****...
             who was promised contraceptive
precautions, who didn't mind the rubbers as much
as "circumcising" himself during *******
by pulling his ******* back, ending up with
a purple pheasant head...
       point being, then the attempted ******:
a complete fail,
   yes, i understand,
           abortion, bad, ******: acceptable if
the person is alive...
       i get the cosmic joke,
      i deserved the attempted ******,
like i deserved the wooing of a girl of 19
with a swan and loch lomond sunset -
   and her scheming plans to "settle down" -
like **** she settled down, last time i visited her
she was already married,
  and at a party, with the slashes arm down
the route of veins, talking to some other guy brag:
oh, i ******, great ****...
     am i worried about being a suburban
cenobite these days?
    no... not really...
           only mostly, in that i am looking
at the greatest mistake that ever came my way
in life: a woman...
       and i did have the antithesis of atheism
happen to me, a psychosis -
or what's called:
    having an awakening with regard to a soul...
a second breath, a thought with a body,
the feeling of a grand puppeteer and the inversion
of unconsciousness, onto an otherwise
formerly body of perfected obedience...
  it still bothers me,
for all i know the kid has been born,
  she's a russian national,
  she's a madwoman,
               if ever the kid would have me talk
about his mother and his surrogate father
he'd blink once, turn pale & subsequently die...
    i "hear" this buzzing in me left ear
that i attribute to: why aren't you paying alimony?!
i'm supposed to pay alimony,
      for what, for a lie?!
  oh right, man up, man this, man that,
              i have enough ******* that states:
there's no chance of pregnancy if you
planned it... well thank **** i didn't...
   the "passing on of genes* argument,
that english existential blackmail argument
is about done, which is what all english philosophy
is these days: blackmailing...
       genes are there, the little ****** wasn't
aborted, someone tried to **** me,
i'm still here, the argument's over...
    there's a balance attained...
and yes, that sentiment by bukowski is spot on:
some people never go mad,
  what horrible lives they must lead...
and don't they? opinionated *** cracks unable
to summon ****-pant into the bedroom
having courted a swan beside the shore
of a scottish lake...
  to later find that she cheats on her husband
and i'm not the husband...
          yes, i did suggest her having an abortion,
but she didn't exactly suggest:
let me move to london with you...
  she sure as **** managed to follow a rich boy
from st. petersburg to edinburgh,
no! i'm done with this mea culpa crap!
i'm done with english existentialism being
nothing more than bribery!
  i'm tired! tired tired tired!
              o.k. fair enough, i can settle on
a status quo, but i can't settle on a friend of mine
acting out the judge, the jury & the executioner
part, i apologised for the suggestion
of abortion, i wanted to make amends,
to retract my original position,
   but was i given a chance? no...
     did she keep up with her infidelities? yes...
    did i keep my status as a suburban cenobite?
sorta... broke it with a ******* after
getting bored with my hand...
    oh, what great horror, when one of them
exclaimed after a string of onomatopoeia
"nursery" rhymes of ******:
  that's been the second time;
what the **** does it take these days,
    a slaughterhouse akin to auschwitz to compare
to the moderately good, but sincerely un-evil man?
guess i'll have to showcase evil
in some perverse way to get the proper
badge of "honour" around here...
   for striving down the middle is about
as recognisable as ******* a pig, donning
a facemask of a goat singing:
  jingle bells, jingle testicles,
                     banging all the way;
might as well call it the moment *** became
******...
    you know why the pharaohs had eunuchs
to guard their harems?
   you do know, right? no ****** back in those
days...
   can't keep a harem without entertainment,
the eunuchs were the ****-lords of the harems,
they were the modern prozzies!
the pharaoh ****** these women to *******
and have heirs, but he needed ****** to
"protect" the harems for entertainment purposes...
****... the ****** "guards" did more *******
than the pharaohs; thus said:
you can compliment the size of king solomon's
harem,
       admire it...
   but back when ****** was not available,
you really can expect me to believe in solomon's
******* stamina... the size of the harem
i can imagine, the stamina of the kind? nope,
esp. since there was no ****** to turn that
limp donkey of a phallus into a galloping
steed, revising 1000+ bored "housewives".