it's almost sad to cite the 3 most memorable instances i've encountered when, with bulgarian prostitutes, the one that performed oral *** as if it was necessary to perform genital "mutilation": she ****** like she scalped... okay, maybe 4: the one i ****** and gave her an ******... and she tried to express angusih and having "suffered" the ordeal... the one with whom i jumped into ice cold water while she masturbated on a bed... the one i ****** while she was crying, who i really liked for her tattoos... the one i asked about a ***** and how i wasn't really Hollywood to use it... as i sat in a mimic harem: all i did was ask for a glass of water.... apparently i'm past the nerves when it comes to copulating with females outside the sociopathic consideration of a female's worth... the freudian madonna-***** complex rings a bell... can **** a bulgarian ******* like a prized-stallion, but when it comes to social-cohesivess barons of explanation? limp ****. Puerto Rican girls in Amsterdam... fat shaming my ***... watched her interlude by ******* into a plastic bucket... while her black page boy made an errand, bringing me beer...  but the bulgarian prostitutes of Goodmayes who pretend to be romanian? worth the 110 quid an hour. i even like the word, if you dissect it: bul-gar.

- modern english -
                     past the acronyms:
   people talking in cipher.
            
      imagine: the immediate hard-on...
the silence of the ***
  with only the woman having a reply...
the onomatopoeia of broken
consonants
attached to clingy vowels and H, A...
                     a sigh of relief?
                                               hardly...
it can be really intimidating
   sitting in the lobby of a brothel...
there's one of you, and there's 7+ of them...
     and you have to make
a "choice"...
              so you ask them
the heretical insinuation:
              and they reply: you can't
do that...
               so you pick the talkative one,
because:
   well... **** it...
you pointed in the "right"
                              direction, let's have it.

            i sometimes remind myself
of a child that grew up with dogs...
   but then i realise i own cats...
  but then i make a fetish out of owning
a dog once more...
        but then i look people "walking"
a dog and see the *leash...
             **** that...
         at least with cats i can be lazy.

    blúthūnd = maine ****, id est:
             clingy *******,
                 thistles of the animal kingdom;
might as well sing & dance
          to blue suede shoes with them
to try, and shake them off...

                  diacritical marks?
    non-specific, merely:
                        punctuation from above.