i guess it's ***...
***** has a tendency to sneak up on you,
like some niqab ninja or
some ****...

*****: you never see it coming...

whiskey?
whiskey is smokey,
might as well be eating
smoked salmon or some sushi
while biting into a lemon
on a bench
in the middle of the night
armed with a night...
and no one even bothers
you...

*** though?
a perfect afternoon sunlight,
and what some
"poets" do...
they read clouds...
i was just exposed to
a xenomorph shaped cloud...

you read into certain things...
not necessarily reading them
literally...
   language can only be an art
if it's peppered with nuance,
and, let's face it...
all of the language employed
on the canvas of the internet
is heavily peppered with
nuance,
   metaphor
   in flames: song? metaphor...

but that sickly sweetness undertone
of white ***...
    ** **! and a barrel of ***...
like a.d.h.d. sugar overload
for grown-ups...

    i internalize a berserk -
              the right song,
the right sunlight,
and some ***...
   hardly gnashing my teeth...
but... exfoliating a jaw...
in a crocodile pinch serenity...

*** gets me...
giddy gets me...
   it's unlike any other happiness,
albeit momentary...
it's contained...
somehow...
don't ask me how...

    i'll be slapping and nudging
the **** out of dough
for Polish dumplings in
a minute or two...
and there the rage can exhaust
itself...

unlike my feelings for...
that movie about 2nd wave feminism,
about that tennis match,
battle of the sexes...
even i don't like that male chauvinism...
women belong in either
the bedroom, or the kitchen...

ahem... sorry...
who said that women ever belonged
in the kitchen?!
i don't think women should
ever be in charge of the kitchen...
get the ******* out of there!
i don't want kitchen in there!

oh, right...
so where are they supposed to belong?
one suggestion came from
a mad Helen in her 50s
at the psychiatric offices of
****** England...

she used the phrase:

    ...      trophy wife...

            oh... really?
women are only supposed to support
the point of a mantle?
perhaps at best:
above a fireplace...
like an urn of ashes of some
deceased pet?!

          or better still... a glamor model...
yes?
or perhaps entertaining an afternoon,
passing time and purpose
strapped to candy crush saga?

who ever claimed that
women had a serious role or, purpose,
in a kitchen?
            
last night i was found ****-naked,
as mother nature made you
oven cooking some spicy
chicken wings with a bowl
full of noodles...

            it was 6am,
and the *** took hold of me...

   but like i say over and over again...
friend...
if you don't know how to drink,
don't drink...
   and most people can't...
their constant nagging yapping,
their bouts of acute depression...
or their idiotic antics...

a drug... that's legal...
but evidently not suited for everyone...
if you can't internalize rage,
and keep it caged...
   why would you even bother
to begin drinking, in the first place?