i'm starting to think that the consequence of bragging actually breeds an unconsciously invested in message of: don't make the same mistakes i made, which i now brag about; my, couldn't ask for a finer aversion of said deeds bragged about... perhaps if bragging was salted with nostalgic spices of: if i could only rekindle the said event... the subversion of bragged about, nonetheless regretted events.

the ultimate faux pas is the zenith of
lost etiquette -
         tact -
                        bragging -
          translated back into gluttony -
so, why should i feel shame in
writing poetry in writing out the most
mundane, when people start off
their hello with bragging shackles of
turning a hard-on of ambition
into a wet-**** of envy?
               n'ah, joking...
     **** me and the need to take a ****...
i started to imagine it as:
as much pleasure comes from taking
a **** in a dark alley in winter
as it does being given a...
                                    hmm...
  why name it? the antonym is all too
obvious;
            *lody: ice cream.