it's the sort of painting that says: i'll get up and do some ****, after trying to ease my way from the painted stupor! i'm going to get up and stir some soup! this stupor is as much enjoyable, as a ******* high tier of constipation! n'ah... i'm off to do my thing... i really don't appreciate photography taking over painting... i'll never know when, why, or how... photography never makes it outside the still-life genre of painting... either that or it's perpetually iconoclastic, boorish; ecclesiastical; solidified in psalm celibacy of the ****** choir.

i want to introduce the concept
of the anti-selfie...
  my take would be best
surmised by the *jan matejko
of the court jester,
                   the stańczyk...
          article & articulation -
what a weird history of pointing
or not pointing the finger -
                      ******* razzmatazz....
italian gay-nail-****** toxicity
of an ***-banger...
                     just itching
to ******* and call it:
that ransom excuse of a refugee
***-nailing a German adolescent and
calling it:
                       hefty -
  if no merely: "the" cool -
              thought of conjuring?
slicing up ham, thinking of
Achilles heels...
then watching the Kiraqi squats
limp off the ****** ground with a
tattooed oops, "riddled" onto
their foreheads...
     take up beef slaughter
while weird-wire tapped into
watching the horror movie:
the hostel...
                i'm asking for a movie
for the perfected chance for
an 'ard-on...
                            "eastern" europe
never looked so ******* pretty...
i have my anti-selfie mind you,
do you, or will you
yo-yo your way out of the challenge,
choke a cabbage-head sort of ****?!