assuming a "cave"... would i be able to hear the word synchronisity(!) in echo, when shouted at a monkey? i guess introspection is much easier, with a similarity of objects... there are some parallels... but then again: there's only the enough few... to claim to stand firm... ****... it's not a pop. belief, but neither is drinking yourself on silly... punching walls to make an impression of: you notice how herr doktor herr professor is always attached to his ring finger, and the ring on it? i thought i'd try it out... as i'm used to doing... a well placed punch against a wall invokes a plum-pouch "bruise" on your 4th knuckle... there's my equivalence of owning a middle-finger and a ring on it to boot... being constipated for the past two days is not much either... eat a peanut and you're on cloud 9 of "imagining" yourself well "adjusted": rather... bloated... how can you tell you managed plateau punch against a brick wall? the fourth knuckle gets bruised... proof of intelligence is no grand gesture to what... isn't expected... let me have my leeches, *****, flies and mosquitos... and you can have you: winter palace... poetry as the congregation of divergent narratives... never quiet the void of an opened eye of a dying sparrow, nested in the cusp of your hand... and in a city when a teenager was stabbed just two days ago... walking the streets at night? you notice... a scarcity... in terms of pavement traffic... the closest i got to "another" human being was my own shadow... it's not big news, given it's romford... collier row to exact... but the killer hasn't been found, as of yet... yet... a woman emerges at night with an alsatian strapped to her stride... i'm still found clinging to a bottle of beer... thinking: lucky teenage ******* - gets the martyr ticket away from the current narrative... and if i came from a stock of manual labourers... you don't exactly hear much about what happens in the construction industry's no-******* policy currently happening in... zee off'ease... never bought illegal cigarettes from romanians either... what... the legal 12+ quid a packet?! extortion... given... a cigarette does less evil than the good of a car exhaust... such a perfect punch laid onto a brick wall... like mike tyson doing a round at disneyland... still... people change as do posits of said people made toward rigid localism... a stalking shadow of death... and you're the only person walking the streets? what could possibly be profound about this advent of being localised by a national news outlet? a deathly absence of protagonists of the bear minimum that might subsequently constitute a book... i sometimes wish i read a dickens' novel... pickwick papers would have done me just fine... luckily i'm on the bottom-end of the literary frontier... and god i'm grateful, that i know it.