-
    otherwise known as the technique
of checking the temp. of a beer bottle
left outside your window,
in the fine, fine, month of february
in england;
    and that's also the reason the prodigy
didn't write a song entitled:
                         messerschmitt.

             minus the shrapnel,
  and not exactly concerned
with fame,
                given the c.c.t.v.
presense...
          i'll punch myself 20 times
in the face,
   and then tell you:
that a slap from an ex-girlfriend
will always be more painful,
which i hope her 7 *******
in a row,
     were as much big of a lie
as she introducing her mother
to me, as her sister,
    and her grandmother
as her, mother...
   but **** me,
     granny can really cook
                  an ukranian borsch;
****, no mountain to climb,
no aeroplane to parachute off...
might as well punch myself
in the face, 20 times.
                                 and i will.
disco ******* polo...
                     falling asleep next
to a graveyard never made more
"hip" sense,
  other than sniffing up fallen
autumnal leaves in an imaginary
gutter...
       but then again the beer made
sense...
          and the shrinking jaw-line,
and a chicken corpse with
bite marks...
           calling it shark remains...
it's well timed though,
          me, as the one who ought
to stack supermarket shelves...
           last time i used the check-out
a 60+ woman tried talking to me
about extra layers and the concept
of ****...
          i replied:
                           it's snowing...
there's snow outside...
                nope...
        didn't translate...
                    she was asking for
what part of her was ****...
            the multi-layers of clothing?
hey! snow! outside!
             so i had to "insinuate"
speaking really slowly:
            and the part of me
                     that wasn't ******?
a study of law,
  or just plain dumb reading of
a thesaurus?
           sure, unearthing
             dinosaur bones
would also help...
      what a joke to mind
                                        criteria.
poetry?
      at best a revision of silent
movies, i.e. silent
                           comedy shows...
           puppeteering at its finest.