.                          every time i roll a cigarette,
and take a swig at my russian-americana
of ***** and coca-cola...
and catch the sight, in the corner
of my eye, reviving a healthy
akimbo posture on the windowsill -
and see... "literally"
                  harp strings...
perhaps what is, or what isn't
a healthy aspect of homosexuality...
but you see...
  when a woman slap you in
the face... for unfathomable reasons...
like it might be akin
to the discovery of the theory
of relativity, but isn't, but is more
the realization of finding a "self"?
hmm...   salve regina:
a Chant of the Templar(s):
               a slap in the face...
  for spending time with your grandparents,
while falling prey on the
grounds of suspicion?
           well... 1 slap along
the muddy road... and 20+ punches later
(self-inflicted): giving yourself
a black-eye...
            a woman's slap is still a cobra
bite... but... would a woman
know what the cranium of bull's head...
a man's fist, would feel like...
to relieve a compensation?
           no? ................    really?!
it would feel like a snake-bite,
that horrid invention of english
and scottish university invention
of aiding half cider, half beer
and blackcurrant head to top it all off?
hard to compare a woman slapping
a man in the face,
  thinking it's the 1950s Hollywood scene...
compensated with a question:
a man punching himself in the face
enough times to give himself a black-eye...
and then asking:
    what of the bull charging,
minus the horns, a colt bull,
pre-castration...
    cranium like a knuckle pouch...
heady to shmack the ****
out of you...
                   so... the slap in the face
is still... 1950s Hollywood
nostalgia?
              if she can slap me
in the face?
      why do i have to punch myself?
to prove the exactly same, point?
well.. it's good...
   i somehow had the inspiration
to visit the girl years later...
and found her, bound to suicidal
intention, not having slit her wrists,
having carved a second river,
down her veins...
   and in shock... having invited a few
of her friends
   to contain me...
    but one... hmm... she was married
by this time... or rather, "married"...
and he slipped in a line...
- you know, she was married,
but i ****** her...
    (ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) -
the kind of laughter that puts you to sleep...
my own...
   and i am to have regrets not
having married her?
       she marries some poor schmuck,
and yet continues to sleep around?
what is this... nymphomaniac part trois?
   the sensibility of mediating men,
is over...
              the old know such as much
as cucumbers giving a ******* selfie
smile...
    and i imply the mediating "old"
outside the realm of earning
         the status of grand-parenting...
mortality and the brothel
of a future...
   to my mind... at least the past
                      is organized...
the future is no canvas...
                           but the past is...
i simply can't fathom a quality filter
to: denounce "a" past,
       in order to embrace, "the" future...
since, to me, the reverse scenario
is more true...
                 i can't believe i'll "say" this...
but i guess the following expression
deserves an outlet...
  a woman, who slaps a man,
in the face... and somehow finds it,
the zenith of romance?
   clearly hasn't been punched in
the face,
  to subsequently learn, of the nadir,
of reverse-jealousy.
let a man punch himself
20+ times in the face, with his own arm,
give himself a black eye,
and then watch his heart turn
into an animal,
with teeth made of a geological
curiosity...
           almost akin to a squid...
the past can't be riddled,
in the same way that:
someone who adorns tattoos can't
be expected to paint on a canvas...
  so... keeping the reflective component
of reality, is bad,
the person who adorns tattoos
is scoff free...
   and all that impose the reflexive
component within
the confines of an impatience,
a future, a gambling unpredictability
are... ******* saints of
"the continuum" / preservation?
how can there be a future,
with an outright, primary school
     scholasticism of denying, a past?
who said that i: "live" in the past?
i am, the past -
    i am, the present -
    ergo?
             i think about the future!
insofar as what is past:
is a loaf of bread;
insofar as what is to come:
is but a crumb of a loaf...
how can you counter
                      this dynamism?
i've had more pleasurable experiences
with ******, bound to an hour,
than i have had,
with women, to the extent of
claiming intimacy...
      and...
                who can have heart to love
the antonym, that treats
you with violence...
   with which you can't make
a reply to, of equal measure?
            make the equal measure
with yourself...
                       and then...
     watch the squabbling hysterics.