yeah...
i seem to have forgotten
the prime,
of... keeping up
with the GENE...
no GENE no go...
         i seem
to have forgotten
that mind-set
of furthering
this existential
impetus...
           must have
flown right over my head
with a: quiff! sound
to accompany it...
no quiff...
sound...
but certainly an hour's
worth
sitting in a chair,
at a turkish
barber shop...
   funny thing...
no sight or conversational
hotspots
akin to either
         Beirut or Mecca!
without a god,
do i have to be made
conscript into the whole:
telepathy of the passing
on of the genes?
the Jews have returned
to the Levant...
          there really aren't...
any conspiracy theories
left to... "unravel"...
   the jews are back
in their homeland,
i'm strapped to, "home",
dealing with ronin...
           the camel jockeys
will continue calling
me dumb...
     i will preserve myself
as: playing dumb,
to whatever drum is
made available...
         happy days...
and we, as people,
will hardly talk to each other,
let alone share a meal...
so...
what's to win,
and what's to be lost?
   hardly anything
to win,
and all that is before us,
to lose...
    so... win-win? yes?
since, to me...
bragging-rights...
and... the fertile ground
of solipsism
to expand...
                into
a virology stature...
  before the authentic
autists will arrive...
grinding us down
to size...
     but i will not eat
a meal with...
but i will not
do the alphabet's worth
of this, that & the other...
and...
happily...
continuing with
     quasi-bravado...
the last remaining
day's worth
of keeping up with...
faking, escapism...
and... upon this route?
to no return...
unlike an englishman...
i am no actor,
i forget to be two-faced...
the german knew
what a ****** was...
the sort of man
that said:
i go in, i do,
   i am done,
i come out...
                     you
do the paperwork,
i treat a television
set like a fireplace...
   what's the problem?
you want me to
build on this simple
fabric of chores...
an existentialist
philosophy that...
ascribes sole
purpose of you...
not having began
where either
German or French
existentialist
philosophers ended?

           well...
                      good luck!

st. valentines' wouldn't
be anything,
quiet like...
         oh... only a few months
ago...
a ******* prescribed
me a remedy
for love...

               and she said...
it began with...
        'ensuring to not
keep a narrative'...
      so i figured...
ah... less magic... more grip...
oh but that isn't
what she said...
she only said: 'you're nice'
when i forgot to use
my genital parts
and paid 110 quid for kissing
her...

        i'll try to remember
more things to forget
                        in my life...

a European goes
to a brothel...
"forgets" to take a Saudi Arabian
meter of competition
with him,
to compete through
the existence of
a harem...

or a European cooks
a Raj curry...
and "forgets" to take a Raj
meter worth of competition
for the number
of chilies being used
in the sauce...

then the resonating vibration,
and a quasi-eloquence
being allowed a voice:
there's someone, alive,
right, now,
that...
               i just want to make
porch chops of,
and... by making them...
do not want to eat...
but, rather...
not evem dare
to feed 'em to the same pigs...
'ey 'ame 'om,
flush,
and 'ake up...
             sewage composite.

what awaits me?
dying the most,
                  unsatisfied man...
naunced rigor...
a conscience prescribed
insomnia...
           that, acted
in reverse...
               to what was
"supposed" to be...
    
                  all... and nothing
at all...
to be worth the scrutiny of
enduring to fathom
imitation.