the night becomes, oh so much more
beautiful when peering at it
through sunglasses...
and the computer screen,
so less myopically-glaring,
like some Piccadilly Circus billboard...
that i am drunk...
but then again...
would you rather take
an opinion of a drunk...
or a serious, sober person?
     hmm?
             sober people and their opinions...
'ave fun...
     sooner or later i'll see you
fall into line of a centurion's
cohort...
         now... that will be fun...
i drink, but that's my problem...
not as much of a problem listening
to my neighbors arguing
in the afternoon...
like... she gets abused...
her child gets abused...
         i drink and i gravitate
toward myself...
                           just don't come between
me and a bottle...
        you know what happens
when you cage enlarged feline animals?
berserk-mode...
           i never used to drink as
much as i drink these days...
oddly enough like the rest of the people,
only on weekends...
then people became cubicle...
i.e. boring...
                i could talk about bicycles,
dog breeds,
           i could talk eclectic tastes...
but then i found that people,
in their majority... had no eclectic tastes
in culture...
    so i gave up, i gave up
attempting to talk to people...
i started to think...
  i was already outside the moral
categorization of thought:
i had no: moral (th)ought left in me...
given that i remember
given my one advice...
learn to pet a dog, or a cat,
before having a baby...
   oh that responsible i am...
first comes the dog petted with
a woman, then comes a child...
to hell with bringing ****-ups
into this world...
        i'd sooner **** up a life
of a pet, before i "think" of fathering
a child...
  no thanks, i know of the angst
that my mother holds against her
mother,
  and the angst my father holds
against his mother, and father...
maybe that's why i...
           animals...
so little of words, yet so much of god...
i just remember feeding a sandwitch
to a stray dog
outside of the Warsaw
                  Western Railway Station...
or lifting up a quasi-Alsatian
outside of the fountain just
beneath the Culture Palace...
some ****** left a dog in a fountain...
it was running silly in circles...
unable to jump out from the water...
given the water level covered
half of her body,
and the soaked fur was
    leveling her down...
so i picked up the poor beast
from within the fountain...
stray dogs?
   a shame on Poland...
i should know...
  the Battersea dogs and cats home?
oh... you mean, the canine Hilton?
i laid slabs on one of the roofs
for their expansion...
i've seen the cubicles...
              pristine, fresh...
you name it...
           no stray dogs in England...
but in Poland?
   stray dogs are a staple...
"stray" cats make home
of the cemetery...
i am drunk...
point being...
   the people making all
        the huffing-and-puffing
mistakes are sober...
they are: not riddles with impaired
judgement...
they're just judgmental...
  i have my excuse...
what's their excuse?!
          sober me?
   ****... i'm thinking about what sort
of pizza i'll be making on Monday,
whether to use fresh yeast,
or dry yeast...
ever sniff up a block of fresh yeast?
the most amazing scent...
    like... overcooked cake...
or something therein...
         so i stopped worrying
about all the worrying within the confines
of political commentary network...
******* ****** up my jukebox!
why should i care?
no one exactly defended me when
i was kicked off wattpad
having put 2 years' worth of content...
i start caring now...
i grow a heart...
yeah, thanks, real great thanks
for a heart...
         can i have my pebble back?