sorry... it's called a migrant crisis?
in Europe?
sure as **** they're not calling
it a refugee crisis...
and sure as they're not calling
it economic migrant situation....
****-shortage...
*****-overload...
please... call it by its proper name...
i don't mind...
  ****... never came an English
woman near me...
but a Pakistani child groomer has...
what's your point?
   but i'm the bwad bwad man...
   i'm the ******* pariah!
       which amounts to justified
gesticulation akain
to Pontius Pilate...
your, whittle girlie pants?
she ain't mine, and she certainly ain't
yours (by the looks of it) -
knock on my door,
some other day...
             i'm not a *******
pedagogue...
       i'm washing my hands
clean of the whole affair...
       whittle princess is on her
own...
          it's not a migrant crisis,
it's a lithium-battery shortage
for all the ******...
****... i'd love to keep a woman...
but
   i don't have the heart t exercise
a dog leash...
     sorry...
            i took to petting cats
and exploring avenues in "petting"
foxes...
less leashes... and more unwritten
pacts of loyalty...
        not fun, when i was younger
i loved owning dogs...
but the leash, and the muzzle?
       esp. with owning dobberman's
or Alsatians pseudo-wolves?
      women...
  ask Tom Waits...
                not my kind of "thing"...
       i drink a lot, i speak very little,
sometimes i write...
      i'm not some sort of cardinal
landrynka (hard candy)...
                not being mean...
but masculine ontology,
"oddly enough":
doesn't fit into a metaphysics of
femininity...
         never works...
never did...
          plus...
  having enough time wasted chasing
A's and B's at A-level,
1st, 2nds, 3rds and with Hon
graduate level markers...
   erasure...
          came for the lexicon...
not the pound of dollar
squish... squash... push-ups...
         i seem to have no coordination
when it comes to money...
all i seem to be good as is...
see red? Pampillonia...
      no... like i once talked to
Helen, in a psychiatric waiting room...
she invited me to talk
about trophy wives...
              evidently she was
a neglected woman,
evidently she would take to me
and say: i like you...
                but the concept of a woman
as attention *******?
i prefer an hour with an actual
*******...
    gives me a better picture...
one hour?
  i'm done...
     and she still retains her decency
of engaging in lubrication...
     come on, give a girl a break,
she's been at it with 4 others
prior to me, the 5th...
   i dig it...
            but all that dog walking
business?
    dogs left by owners having
professional careers,
alone, at home,
turning out depressed?
  and notably, if bought from
pedigree breeders, also castrated?
**** me...
    at least the Sheiks held castrato
men as hostages,
to alleviate the lack of
          ******...
   basically walking ******...
fair enough...
                         i'd jump on board
right away... because?
started jerking off aged 8...
having found a ***** mag on
a church construction site,
where we used to play,
in the labyrinth of the catacombs...
guess what?!
   aged 8?! no ***** production...
but the muscular feeling
of ******* is there....
   so?
   cut my ***** off and sling-shoot
me into an Arabian harem...
buzz-****-wit-light-year...
walking, talking, mandible jaw
*****...
   ever wonder what
  a talking and oral *** fission
of an otherwise absentee "lover"
does to a woman?
           ****...
                        whatever...
cut my ***** off..
  i already know what it feels
like to ******* without
having *****....
               the sensation of pleasure
doesn't even come from
the ***** produced...
big flaw in the argument...
            it's not in the actual
product...
   come to think...
all the women in my life
have been failures of *******...
one i could swear was attempting
to circumcise me...
                  too... ******* rough...
it's tender meat we're talking about...
unless you've never
fried a tender **** beef piece
of meat: the ******* doing?
perhaps the counter line of argument
comes from M.G.M. men,
notably American...
what?!
         oh... right... these men have
no ******* sensitivity...
   a saber, but no sheath...
  i feel sorry for both the men,
and the women... who encounter
unsheathed "sabers"...
     sorry...
       but like any english person
saying that word on a public transport
commute:
               i'm not really sorry.