scheisse!
                           or shy essy had one
of these moments
                                       to boot,
      and later call it an
                          autobiography...
     a draft in the house,
dumb drunk puts
a glass of whiskey
      and coke on a window-sill
with the window open...
comes the slapping wind,
what happens?
      the window flings open
and knocks the full glass
    onto the floor...
   scheisse!
            out comes the towel
the hygienic wipes
and toilet paper...
         to later make a reminder:
sweeping with my pantofels
(misnomer): **** you
             wear indoors...
ah ****, looking for nouns
is like pointing in multiple
directions... SHLIPPERS!
    did they stick to the floor?
nope, a mighty good job
i did, right there and then...
there's dust,
   and there's just sugar on
the floor,
  or a synthetic version of
it...
              the music still plays
and there's a extinguished
cigarette loitering in my mouth...
     at this point you
reflect:
               hope there are no
claustrophobes out there reading
this poo-poo...
     my, boyish words,
alternatively: mess...
                     anywhere but eaton...
   why would you go
to bulgarian prostitutes?
             erm...
        you have the money,
don't know how to spend it,
        she'll know,
                    plus you get her
to ****** and giggle...
                   problem solved.