/                                             ha!

                             what a glorious sound!

                              two foxes mating,

            like a female fox
                                      cried: ****! ****!

foxes are the new wolves
of europe,
and the old hyenas
of africa...

  the shrill!
like smashing glass,
like dropping iron
   pellets onto a mirror!

like applying sandpaper burns
onto a book!

the dogs in the vicinity?
whimpering...
barely able to usher out
a barking noise...
  even the german breeds
invested in
          by the english people...

and when i mean: outer-suburbia...
i mean: bordering on
farmland,
        and just such example
of the wild giving
away: dreams!

     perhaps once upon a time
with wolves...
   i only have foxes to appease me
in marking the tongue
as delivering
the organic format into
            an inorganic medium...

i fiddle with my beard,
pretend i am playing the violin,
and remember that i took
the road into a dark wood
away from the safety of
a cornershop, where a woman
attired in cheap (rather than expensive
bishop) purple
was buying frozen pizzas...

                   god, that *** and those
eyes!
             it's almost like a gypsy stole
my heart! and subsequently
stole the money left in my wallet
as i lumbered half-sleeping: drunk!

2 days, 6 women apart...
      that's a ******* lucky ratio
in spotting a sight for sore eyes
in essex...

              nothing magazine glossy
types, no generic ditto faces...
    mandible beauties...
        ones involving flesh, and bone,
and: all the "imperfections"
requiring someone like me
             to make an observation of...

mandible bodies...
     crisp... having lost
    the logistics of army-styled
                       rubric columns of
                            snap-of-the-whip...

one just stood above five feet,
gorgeous thick cranium-eating
fat, exposed, thighs...

             17th century fetish for
coral bulging near-edibles...
                versailles type oysters...

a bit of floral there, a bit of floral over
"there"...

               it's like english women
have a knack at ensuring **** is coupled
with appearing lazy...

            rough, "run of the mill"
                          heroics avoiding Gucci...
******* can *****,
   and i mean that without
          a *****-driver involved...

english women, simply are...
        the only compensating comparison
i can find is
            within the videos of
                       ThePatriotNurse...

a gypsy and attempting to speak
deutsche fetish...
                     bad ******* combo...

purely urban women?
             n'ah...
                                              i'll pass...
blonde in the belly of the beast
                                                          ­  types?

tartare steak = the neu-sushi,

     but not minced beef;
                                roughly cut up.

****! seems i'm inclined to be
more ******, than political,
   mention of trans-categorical allocation
of "being": also, an animal.