excruciating deficits in enjoying a Dickensian plot:
former title...

returning from a former Soviet satellite state:
i'm a little bit timid, about a "freedom" of speech,
armed with the experience
of dating a Russian girl...
gotye?
  i really don't mind...
Polish radio 1... or is it 2?
great shows: some wild affair
in Warsaw, a blues get together:
reminding people of
the band breakout...

.isn't the statement, akin to: i think... categorized as, delusional, under the fathom of empiricism? thought isn't exactly a sense, yet... hollowed-out man ought to know: that any doubt regarding man's existence-crux of "soul" is a denial of the existence-crux of thought...

or something of the like:
grand, bacchic...
a gargantuan "yawn"
of a whale,
    and in this:
     a sea that sends
its perpetuated invitation...
like an ostrich:
                 with a reply...

i believe that
cinema made most sense,
from the passing of
b & w...
via technicolor...

over-saturation,
that was ideal...
i forget the modern
c.g.i.,
and the 1970s
true grit style of cinema...

the lollipop-styled
technicolor movies...

frank o'hara's:
to the film industry in crisis...
well... current year?
2019:
there really isn't
a crisis as a crisis
that is disguised
as synonymous with
momentum...
and "crisis" is momentum...

mind you...
didn't knausgård
call the Swedes:
cultural cyclopses?
well... after watching
black lake:
a t.v. drama...
well...
it's not exactly
a Dickensian tale,
is it?
there's an anti-******
and all...
but...
this show swayed
an English audience:
to appreciate it?

unless creaking doors
and angles of horror:
the non-existent
third party
is an idea for horror
in, Sveeden...
well... what do i know?

it is bothersome:
thought...
notably in the scenario
of it being
counter-empirical...
yet so attached
toward an
ontological "expectation":

yet thought is a non-sense...
isn't it?
i hoped to entertain
"thinking" for the sole
purpose of defining thought...

it is a non-sense...
and yet...
people describe thinking
as some either:
audible or...
   akin to a hallucination:
when that gaping yawn
of the void opens...
and images pour in:
when thinking
retracts, and thought takes
toward attaching itself
to an anchor...

cogito ergo sum
can't exactly be an ontological
statement...
proofs...
    hmm...

                who's to disprove me?
i found that fascinating
how an English argument
lies along the veins of:
Descartes didn't prove
he existed / exists...
ah...
            the space-temporal...
the immediacy of transcendence...
the time-spatial...

thought cannot be a sense,
in that...
   the circus of ideas
that allocate a thinking-crux
toward a convened
attest...
            
          the senses cannot entertain
half of what thought
entertains...
thought: isn't exactly
empiricism, grounded, is it?

i think therefore i am:
an ontological statement...
          god, and thought:
and all the other phenomenons
of:
what circumstances
a naked Adam...
as much awe-riddled
in Eden,
as in the catacombs of the Vatican...

a presence of:
the something prior...

hardly a cliche...
again:
how much of thinking:
does not precipitate into being?

i think
becomes an antithesis of
i see, i hear...
and i am: what i eat...
much of what i think
is worth being recycled
material...

capitulation...
a capitulation of:
   a fiddling with a recurrence...

banging my head
against a brick wall and
still the maxim will not crumble
to dust...

    i think: is a non-sense statement...
and how did it,
or ever will translate
into the ontological focus
that begins with: i am...
i will never know...

freedom of speech:
i much prefer the sentiment:
airing my thought...
i'd much prefer
to be able to air my thoughts
than be given the liberty
to speak...

i can't do anything with
a "freedom" to speak...
i'm the sort
that found Kierkegaard
the most appealing
philosopher,
i like cooking:
i would be great at
cooking in the army...
who fight who and who's
who?

no... i don't like
the freedom of speech...
not because i want to gag
someone...
it's because:
people ought to be able
to be given a second
chance to think,
akin to the interlude
of thought: via the instance
of being able to blink...

yes, i am revolving around
the description of:
being timid...

           yes,
i am alienated in coming from
beneath the Iron Curtain:
a grandfather i remembered,
spending summer holidays
with,
cycling... not being riddled
by dementia..

such idle concerns fiddle
with the current speakers...
such... gimmicks...

   life, once achieved,
having no consolidation
worth is...
                      i wake up and
spend about an hour:
wanting to die...

perhaps i'm faking
truance in being
intimidated by a perusing
******: third party...
the "other"?
yes... yes: i am...

but this is bothersome in
that it is not a verification
of bravery...

          i can still remember
who taught me to tie
my first set of shoelaces...
my great-grandmother...
who figured out:
imagine ribbons...
and i tied my shoelaces
like ribbons...

          hardly a life worth
the importance of being
elaborated into writing words...
akin to:
will Jonah ever be
deemed a patriarch...
the magnetic prospect
of congregation?

i feel it claustrophobic
to constantly agree...

john glubb: and the fate
of empires...
250 years...
except that the Soviet empire...
lasted from 1922
through to 1991...

i am the black dog of
Warsaw:
i am free, but not in the sense
that Locke would deem
me free...

what "i am" has to
predicate what is:
a constraint of "i think"...

i'm sorry, was i wrongly
interjecting from Scandinavian
paradiso?

freedom of speech:
grand idea...

              if i don't push this
written debauch into
the sphere of the prying eyes
of the other:
i will preserve my self,
by entombing myself
in... what could hardly
be deemed as worthy
of representing a mirror...

i have Beckett's watt
under my belt,
i don't know what
an liberal arts college
education looks likes...

and...
            daddy issues...
****'s sake...
i put on two pairs of
socks on my grandfather's
feet
prior to him being whizzed
off to hospital
with a nosebleed...

whatever medium i'm
writing it...
i can't relate with anyone...
daddy issues...
surrogate fathers
and mothers...

         an uncle with a throat
ulcer and a fear of
pancreatic cancer...

here's to me being pristine
in being the sponge
for ideological
grounding of a worthy
infantry scoop of brains...

  yes... this is quiet a bollocking...
Warsaw central still feels
like Mongolia to me,
and, there i was...
native...
speaking the tongue...
Warsaw central
was as appealing to me
as Mongolia...
i'll walk into east London...              
pass a mosque...
drink a beer
and, upon being asked:

Disneyland?!