/safe to say, at least i'm not deluded by some vague, vague, assertion of being the ideal worth mention of the expression of love, stealth, hiding a potential for the firecracker sort of kiss./

basking in the friday night's worth
of england's outer-urban labyrinth...
comes the price with heavy drinking,
unlike those ****** junkies,
alcoholics are super-active...
       based on? this example...
            once you've drunk as much as i have,
you tend to **** out
concentrated *****...
                   variations, obviously,
when the amber stream comes out,
and when it's just diluted clear...
           you get a whiff of the encompassing
pervumd...
     hmm...         lemonade?!
            but only when you've drank
as much as i have,
         congesting high concentrate
ammonia liquid to be equivalent
to lemonade... synthetic lemons that is...
        but at least i'm not deluded
on the grounds that i have
  the most, perfect, love, to offer...
            last time i checked,
the woman walking her rottweiler
which i petted, move away immediately...
    because the ****** didn't bite...
   as you might: put your hand
into a fire and excavate a hand-gesture
equivalent to a shadow-bunny...
           as ever, a friday,
a lonely woman all perfumed gagging
each and every whiff of passers-by...
           sitting alone at a bus stop...
  even i think chat
should be deemed an onomatopopeia...
   akin to chattering,
                 or the quickened
        slamming of the teeth against
each other...
                    because when was
diacritical marks divorced from
                             crafting arithmetic?
i can count U with an umlaut as: 2.