all the men in my
life had only one
motif:
  god, she sounds:
just like my mother!
oh i didn't ****
the men...
        i didn't ****
the women either...
i guess i had a mother...
i guess i had
some origin story:
unlike adam:
a mathias
with a womb
rather than a god...
for all i know
the whiskey made
sense:
    the rest was
   just mediocre.
but hey! i didn't
complicate your life with
my addication:
as i didn't complicate
my life with your
   narrative;
last time i checked,
all it took was a single mum
with a young buy
who read me a book
in german on a train from
Romford to Stratford,
and even though i know
he was narrating to me
a story about
the personification
   of trains in: all i could
recall was the song:
hanzel & gretyl: mein
kommandant...
the fetish of being a father
overpowered me
in having to overpower
the fetish of ****:
cuz vaacheeking ****
und alloowing
  a nun monopoly,
didn't really bid me a well
enough goot-nacht.
a little kinder on the train
speaking to me
a kinder-deutsche...
   wouldn't your heart melt?!
es hat weh getan, zu sehen:
  kinder-deutsche.