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Jun 2018
please, i beg of you,
to know the place
of which god has no
knowledge,
or leisure of entry...
     and keep me in that
suggestion...
otherwise?
  i have my closest
fasthom to "market"
   a pettle...
i: closer to birch
as
identifying tree:
than an oak...
       am i closer to the
     castle-of-thought,
with the crude units
of genitals?!
confined of the male
genitals?
      little girl and little boy,
baba yaga
and turnip for
a hansel,
   and a beetroot for
a gretyl...
                 love: so sweet...
love... in the affairs of
furore:
otherwise:
   what would only become
the kaleigh dance...
     and us...
    and no: us...

           a hybrid of *******,
as would become understood...
standing aloft in grieving
a stature of Edinburgh...
         your...

           shadow of being...
my supposed "child":
and your... belittling child
of a genital take
on impetus...
        
    odd... athe africans
can call it a clear sahara...
        with a male and female fame of
"purse"...
     Żubrówka...
         no... ***** no...
i kissed the prince the snail
and you expecting him
to be frog turn: a lottery baron...
                 ****... me!

you call them something or
other... the heil glum's?!
             something in question
of being: "told apart""?!
          
romance what what with what?
post-scriptum colonialism...
    oh... ****...
forgot the proper impetus...
      ****** better take to
the revision of cotton...
      and because without the basis
of colonel tavington...
       you gonna provide
the chinese *****-labour
of your usurp
              weather journal?!
   ******* gonna become all
fickle and emotional
to resurrect aztecs or something?

mind you...
considering the ushering of:
freedom...
        see..
the red coats?
terrible...
    terrible... but you see the problem
of the modern,
    spectacle military?
    lost coherence of: cadence!

   north korea and russia will do...
england?!
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
   you ******* training seals,
or just agitasting egoism?!
  the call of the red jacket...
    odd the veering on
the purple sheer...
       her...
  
   majesty's... "majesty's":
soldiers...
                do english soldiers of the royal
core, even contemlate to
the basis of their existential
core... a...
an equivalent of a russian...
          infantry cadence?!

the english soldiers,
              demanding a queen
rather than enemy, or general...
             what a broken harth to
mind a square cubic of wreath...
without allowed metaphor...
        
let's be honest...
with or without the queen...
the current british infantry
cadence?!
            kinda... kinda makes
north korea look like...
                  a perfect shoelace;
nor is that perfect...
attempting
to cobble-fit
a variant of the loss of youth
in encompassing
      prior York, the Crown...

after a while i am almost
attempting to be sedated by
     an attempt into a play of being
torn, naive...
            **** gets boring,
and octous begins to
suffocate,
      imitating, royal,
           **** amour of the desired
******...
         oh how there is enough
little people, among the people
deemed: "big"
      in posession of a crown...
the english army is:
   without... goose...
  or what is reserved for
   the most appropriate height of making
a mark of... said,
or unsaid footing...
  how sudden the death...
and a...
                gambling
fissure of a: "loss" bound
                          to a tomorrow?
soviet says...
soviet gains...
        and the little gain
in between...
pray to god to never feel
obliged to pray or encompass
monogomy...

                          2nd. tier...
whatever you might call it?
words, are, cheap.
***
Mateuš Conrad
Written by
Mateuš Conrad  33/M/Essex (England)
(33/M/Essex (England))   
45
 
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