/almost everyone fears looking into the eyes of death, yet people marvel at the universe; yet for the majority, looking into the eyes of madness, looking into the third party, twice removed from the race of angels and demons, i.e. the geniuses, looking into the whirlwind of adventure in the most mundane circumstances of the everyday... manual labours are derived from standing on the cliff edge, boredom and a wasted breath; but people can congregate for fear of cancer, while i see a symbiosis in a tree, riddled by mistletoe: which is a botanical form of cancer./

you really can't speed-read a philosophy book,
i'm still studying the **** genre,
           and further studying it,
               talking to old people,
     notably old men on park benches,
    excusing my drinking my smoking
interjecting with permissions...
            most of the time they are not
disagreeing to my habits in public.
              - but you simply can't skim read
a philosophy book,
            i too thought the heidegger labyrinth
would become easier past ponderings VI,
   but almost three months in,
          and i only managed to stomach
  30 pages of ponderings VII...
             always, the gaping hole,
  the wound, the need to ponder something,
most probably unrelated,
   as i will testify:
   what saint cyril did unto the greeks
e.g. δ that morphed into д...
                         i deem necessary to do
unto the latin script...
                        just, a simple revision,
nothing too harsh,
         but when people read e. e. cummings
and talk about orthography?
        ah ah... nope... not gonna happen...
(in the background, ghost b.c.'s monstrance clock) -
either a pendulum, or a guillotine,
     or perhaps a guillotine pendulum -
     reign of terror and no remaining
depictions of the bastille -
                 haunted by the cheering
                         shouting of the aristocratic
anarchist, imprisoned in it,
                 that was, the: marquis de sade;
less about sadism, and more about the acute
variation, i.e. sadé...     sad-eh...
        as i already said: i will tell you more
about the so-called "father": tetragrammaton,
instigator of laughter, and a vowel-catcher,
notably a sigh, or rather not (gh) -
                              sī(gh)...
so we are, literate, aren't we?
                         so eager to blah blah,
                     never really caring for
      the freedom of thought...
                                   only among the crows,
the cats and the dogs among so many others,
a freedom of breath, with only one said thing,
in incremental variations,
               but nonetheless, the same thing
being said: a presence, a hier-sein -
                                 if you really want
to talk orthography, you need to drop
in-place "diacritical" marks, existing in english
with only two instances as proof:
    j has to become ȷ, and as respect:
  no halo, no levitating head upon ιota -
  now that we have a blank canvas,
             we can... **** around with punctuation
marks intra-verbum, rather than worry
about inter-verbum punctuation,
  summarißed by commas, full-stops,
   colons semi-colons, hyphens, etc.
         the english language was always going
to be the host for such discussions...
                                       a, blank, canvas;
the language just needed someone to observe
it... for example:
how would you utter the name
       circe?
                   cats? cysts and roughage?
using the basic "orthography" borrowed
from e. e. cummings...
                CrC'eh...
                         or?
        seer-se...
                            C         S
                                  Z
cluttered in that high german ß (es und zed) -
my my...
                    in defence of free speech
focusing on those who used to make a mark,
rather than write a signature,
    focusing on them... with their st. andrew's
  (X),
                      which, apparently is a philosophical
movement in asia - chí  -       chee         zzzzzz....
   snapshot of the future...
                 in further muddles:
                      talking about a cliff-edge by those
who do not know, that they're standing on one...
not for the meddling diacritical
                 distinction of circe...
                    cīrcé -
                             i.e. within what i see:
  a macron is necessary to prolong the sound -
            along with the need to morph
a cat into a cyst...
                                     and then
the trebuchet moment with the acute e...
               a flick... in depth: the hiding vowel
catcher second H of the tetragrammaton...
     for there are two languages within
but one: what the eyes see,
                             and write,
          and what the tongue doesn't see,
  but speaks.
                       for have you ever closed
your eyes, jaw shut, and wriggled your tongue
about?
               philosophy has metaphysics,
poetry has metaphor...
          but that's hardly the reason to
confuse the homosexual interpretation
                          of the Eden Project
by equating the abstract lizard that's
a snake with a phallus...
                               look up...
                                   the tongue better represents
the fluidity of a serpent than that
   piston of a limb...
                      perhaps there never
was a devil to begin with...
                     rather: a woman's tongue;
because women are under-represented
in literature?
           man deems it worthwhile
to stand naked... a woman will not write
an honest, revealing work,
          for fear of a backlash from the sorority...
because if all is revealed, what power
remains in the tease?
           ha ha!