stop being so ******* sensitive!
like some: pretend ballerina,
or a ******* french footballer!

  - and however many times
my feelings were... "hurt"...
i've learned to allow said feelings
to auto-construct a labyrinth
of feelings,
         whereby my heart
has become more cul de sac
winding
   and whereby my mind
has reiterate itself
to...
             make the thought
the more fluid written "exam"...
talking?
             for the foreseeable
future i haven't speak one iota's
worth of either
             i n c r e m e n t...

but it's good to know,
in being allowed
a buffer zone of the freedom
of speech, via the medium
of writing...

i just imagine the effort
it takes to read...
a reader, is not a listener...
you can passively listen,
but can hardly passivle read...

so... this...
                diarrhoea rhetorica...
it doesn't come from
reading...
         whenever not in possession
of a little red button:
there are 26 letters' worth of:
the delay button.

- but then...
who said what?
      me? i only heard... the sound
of two idle hands
performing the piano section
of a devil's symphony's crescendo.