even Wittgenstein, who was sparing in his writing said the motto: at least a book of philosophy is worth a read, if it's peppered with jokes... obviously that's not verbatim... but i am of a belief system that demands filthy vocab, which also implies sanctifying certain words to upstage the horrid status of icons... i need, profanity! i need profanity in order to merge in the murk of walking in the most hollow depths! there's no man worth considering if he attempts puritanism with a tongue that speaks one thing, but does, otherwise... i can at least trust an asp in biting me, rather than a cherub faking cuddling me, instead, smothering me.

the first thing i contemplate in worth of day
is a chocolate's worth of a ****
éclair -
               once that is over and done with
and i manage to catch a refreshing breath
of nearaing december air...
         mind you, i found myself suffocating
in the house tonight,
i simply said in the high afternoon sickly
suffocation:
           i need some cold air to revive me,
apologies for retiring to slouch at least 3 hours
off my clock...
                  then there's the necessary
fetish for german... *mensch -
i do know why i have built up this fetish
for hearing the german tongue...
      but i need to adhere to hearing it even
if it's in a canape form...
                     it's still the cold that transports me
to things primordial...
       like: the greatest thinking pattern
of philosophy was the thought of constipation,
the throne of thrones was a toilet...
         and the grandest end product was
a... pile of ****.
odd as it might sound,
       pincer cold and the thought of
excusing a **** comparable to the ******
flamboyance of look at the twin pears
of a tightened corset...
               man has no redemption other than
via the medium of laughter.