you can drink sometimes,
and hope to find something
beside the bottom of a bottle...

but sometimes you take
to the night,
   and just...
    stop under an embracing
winter's take on
a tree...

         the night is misty,
and crowning the distance:
just ahead,
   a street lamp...

       a night akin to:
10ml of milk in a glass of 300ml
of water...

  or perhaps i faked
the accurate fraction...
but the auto-suggestion
came:

should i paint this?
****... no brush, paint,
or canvas...
the best i can do is...
blink,
   and hope my memory
bank is not gupled
by the River of Heraclitus:
that i hope to remember...

passing a skeleton
of a tree, on a winter's
foggy night,
with how...
light off the street lamp
almost breathed,
or rather: cushioned
the "pattern"...

          i almost desire to
forget the democratic
narrative of the internet,
i'm here: shadow-self,
nudging a few
"chess" pieces of jumbled
letters un-jumbled
into words along...

spirals...
   i have to call words in
the english language
either: waterfalls

     d
     o
     w
     n

or spirals:

              d
                               o
                             r
                       a                 w   (↻, ⟳)
               w               d      
                                    n

like: imitation of the mouse-pad
doing a condor's
encricling motiff...

but you know what's uglier
than even turns
a Medussa into stone?

   artistic ambition...
              some would even
call that: integrity...
or: it's not plagiarism...
it's...

               no spare
               to allow to borrow...
something or other...

but artistic integrity
contra ambitions...
            i was just about
to recite a boomtown rats
"closure" /
    court case for
   the originality debate...

but i figured:
   there's still that night...
and there's that skeleton
of a tree,
   there's the street lamp...
and there's the fog...
and whatever dynamic
made compact by the two objects
and the three elements
of: synthetic light,
universal night and fog...

i'll admit,
i am as docile as a
   non-ambitious worth
of man:
or a
derelict doll-house's
worth of ever
having concerns
for...
   stupor upon
the mantlepiece...

               i have become
so lethargic that
i have lost all concerns
for the counter-motive
of jealousy
that would be worth
(it) being acribed
to success...

              i still hear voices
in the distance,
and upon the wind,
and they mostly utter
the word:           NO
(yes, i know,
pedantic of me,
one shouldn't colon
a futhering and encapsulate
a colon furthering
with anything in
italics:

  which is a variant
of the pedagogy of
the pedant, concerning
          tautology -
i.e. there is no double
emphasis, like: so).

- yes, because the real world
really wants
that sort of cognitive
baggage
in a man making a cameo
of a supermarket cashier's
worth of hours...

  more like:
give this man a ******* grenade!

**** it:
  ✄ ☂ ☼  ☯☺...

the world has moved far
beyond what was once
"new" to me...
in that... it has advanced...
and i have lost ambition...
this sort of crap
could possibly come
from a convent akin
to Taizé...

so yeah... ctrl + c / + p
and: scissor that umbrella
and wait for the sun
of a taoist worth of smiles...

sorry:
i'm just about to back-the-****-off
with the Hebrew
counter to the modern take
on the Giza tablature
that's:
    mmmmm' bugging me...

******* gizmo-talk...
   retards anonymous...
all that's missing is some *******
braille and some sign-language
and...
            whatever this sort
of language is:
cheap-****!
   tabloid press!
  
             and there's still about 70cl
of white *** in the bottle...
and no...
i wish i could have painted
the sight of
that tree, in fog...
against the backdrop of a street lamp...

but then again:
   strauß never wrote an opera...
and j. m. w. turner
never painted fog in the night...
sure: mist at sunrise...
over the sea...
but never fog in the night...

now: i do like my "frustrations",
since they're such
pedantic observations that
i can only reduce myself
to laughter...

            luckily: not plunging
a knife in a someone that's not worth
grievance...

me? i want fog in the night?
10ml of milk
in a glass of 300ml of water...
there... fog... in a glass.