/                your supposedly free women,
  are like a bad idea of compensating with sports trophies;
can't lie, won't lie... allowing myself entertaining dating one of them, and then actually dating on of them... i'd rather... heat up a nibble of a pair of scissors with a cigarette lighter... and then... make a tattoo with the metal being given a quasi-metallurgy status; it's not even pedantry... it's just the ******* obvious;
  can't exactly love someone who slaps you in
      the face, when you can't punch them back; what?
relativism of mental tattoos?!        

               i... really want to hear the feminist
excuses.... coinciding with
a women beating her son
with two: slit... belts
worthy of adorning the point
of fastening female trousers...

and then... listen to:
to that "woman" giving
me a slap in the face for
keeping visiting my
grandparents a private matter...
i! want! to!
  n'ah... **** it... whatever...
a slap in the face is the usual
hello, when you go to russia,
esp. from siberian standards...
why bother... whatever
it is, that is, that actually isn't?!

bulgarian prostitutes
treated me better,
and i thanked them for it,
by treating them likewise;
a ukranian *******
with one gold tooth
treated me better,
called me a good man...

that one bulgarian *******?
called me a nice man...
it's not that compliments
are the shallow tongue...
but if you're normal,
and fathom deviancy?
   and are subject to a compliment?
unlucky you,

                for then, writing a book.
within the confines of
the woman in my life...
only prostitutes confined me
to embody anything good...
the others?

     hollywood 1950s translation
of transvestite politics...
       come to my childrens' christening
while i apply a cheese grater
to your face imitating cheese...

               oh and the persistent
"self-consciousness"
aspect of a mea culpa:

pontius pilate said: ecce ****!
         does that count?!

if we're going to play this sort
of game...

  why did they take
chikatilo into a prison cell,
and shot him in the back of the head
there?

           hmm?

my imagination is running wild
at this point...
  given that christine chubbuck

shot herself on air in a t.v. studio,
but subsequently died semi "braindead"
on a hospital bead?
    
it's a Bane quote:
why would you... shoot a man...
before throwing him
out of a plane?

  i.e. why would you shoot
a man, in the back of the head,
before putting him in a prison cell?!

doesn't the imagination
    just run wild?
can, or can't it?!
            
       you... execute a man...
in a prison cell...
              it's not the ******* guillotine
public spectacle...
   it's...
   a shot to the back of the head...
in a prison cell...

             problem?

  the supposedly instantaneous
death of "killing" the brain
in american myths and american cinema...

i want fear...
i am fear...

                      and i am anti-cinematic
censorship of realism:
        
  i(s)ch bin die großpfarrer -

i have been denied too many times...
to live a casual, ordinary life,
to subsequently...
deny myself, something,
akin to this!

like i already said:
   my mother tends to forget giving
me a lesson concerning Hubert,
Hubert, who's mother
commited suicide
by drinking white vinegar
to shrink her stomach
into a killing *****...

           i liked Hubert...
but then she... lashed out with two...
slit sized belts against me,
and then put me into a hot bath...

it's not like my girlfriend really minded
that giving me a slap on the face...

well...

          serves you right:
whatever your "problems" are
in the current sphere of affairs...

                         moths catching flame?
dogs meowing rather than barking?

      do i ******* look like i care?

the only kindness i've ever learned,
or was allowed to learn,
was in the medium of prostitution...
outside of this realm?
  whatever you deem as normal?

  that's taboo, and suspicious to me.