/most people visit amsterdam for the ****... me? you know that puerto rican prostitutes have little afro page-boys scuttling around bringing beer for the pundits? as you do, ******* into a bucket in a tile-lined room... ****... always the scent of bourbon suffocating me in a brothel... every single time... mind you, at least i don't waste her hour, faking or not faking, ****'s more addictive than gambling./

drinking is never a good idea,
up to the point
when you do start drinking;

  unlike me, at least
they had the nuremberg trials;

fixations on a rigid,
method-enveloped lexicon -

             because what could possibly
unravel the cartesian
      cogito ergo sum:
     the chicken prior to the egg -
with the essence of the sum
        categorised as a presupposition,
self-indulgence,

                    since cogito
could only be fathomed within the confines
as categorised by: spear-head
of proposition...

                but of course some smart-***
knower of life, will retain his
judgement of me looking up my own
***, or call it: intellectual *******....

but then i reply:
             perhaps... but i do not hide
behind others, ensuring there's a collateral
heap of corpses surrounding me...

because, for some odd reason,
i never took to expressing confidence
in talking about my woes
with prostitutes...
           i can tell you why one,
in particular, drunk on *****,
             started talking about her
daughter...
                        
    the hangman of tel megiddo
competed with the son of golgotha...

         as much as a woman might
concede that men confide their
woes with prostitutes,
    sometimes, a man, mute as a grave
comes along, and listens...
   admiring that floral tattoo on her right
shoulder-blade...

              tipping her an extra
tenner on the already given 110 quid
to perform oral *** on her...
          
         which is probably akin
to the homosexual parading his deviance
of ******* ****...

   she probably would have asked
for twenty after she realised i slobbered
down south to tickle the ****...

            but at least there's honesty,
she will tell me that she
checks herself, on a regular basis
for s.t. diseases...
    
            i don't mind the rubber,
plus she's loves a pair of caves
     watching her shower,
          asking me to join her,
       which i do, subsequently
washing her body.