so how did you spend last night?
- oh, you know, i stayed up
listening to music
with interludes of foxes making
noises...
       then for uncontrolable reasons
i wanted to achieve
  a transcendence via
arriving on the, plethora...
- how did you do that?
- as someone who enjoys pain...
i started to punch myself
in the head,
i figured: the amitriptyline
and paracetamol combo with
a liter of whiskey sometimes doesn't
work...
- how was it?
- i woke up... and...
         ****... it all started to fit
into a tuxedo-tight...
          i just had to know
the methods employed by young
western females
when inflicting self-harm...
- so?
- now i know,
   i can almost understand
the relief of inflicting pain on yourself,
akin to the burden of giving
birth, albeit...
  i'm confused...
   why not champion for
cesarean birth, rather than abortion?
hell, look at me,
male, a ***** strapped to an ego
inside a toy-thing of body...
- feelings?
- oh sure, even now,
i sense gravity working on my heart...
something south of the collar bone,
that "something"
  that's either over-rated
or under-rated...

point being: i know why i will
never write anything beside
verse:
   my weakness being:
   dialogues...
       unbalanced libra...
one side always dominating
the other side...
   like there's no "hypothetical"
scenario of a real-life event
of me visiting a brothel...
as for punching myself
in the head...
yeah...
            for someone who
enjoys pain
   like some cameo role
in a rammstein music video
akin to mein teil
my usual, melancholic,
morbid "european" self...

              i should have been born
in a time when the polish-lithuanian
commonwealth partition
was happening,
seeing what's to be seen
of england...

          doing the bidding
of the crucifix,
age old superstitions...
but all this modern scientific
sensibility,
         the snarky comments...
too much effort...
i write better when i do something
wrong...
  me? i can't entertain the sort
of thoughts crafted by an Einstein...
but i do know,
that the letter H... is only a surd
in translated hindi...
e.g. dhal
   (but you forgot the macron, a,
given that...
   you extend the breath
to compose daal, i.e. dhāl) -

well someone has to be pedantic,
it's not like i came from
a breeding stock,
with a generation prior to me
was ******* illiterate...

               code, no can do...
figure out a blank space in front of me?
sure...

          u'słuchać
   (which could also be written
without the scalpel apostrophe...
i.e. attached to the u
via                     úsłuchać) -

namely? buckling down...
before the internet filter algorithms
("paradox": rhythm)
      get on my ***,
i'll be long gone...
      trying to code in a filter
that appreciates
                    diacritical markers...

no... emotions are not over-rated...
they are merely over-stated...
when the heart chokes
the mind to usher out a tongue...
and the heart does choke...
but...
                      whatever is to be made
of the plethora is the whole
point...
              like religion...
privately...
          until the heart becomes
akin to that bird in the oxygen experiment
1768 (joseph wright of derby’s),
    
and requires the devil
to employ the hands to do more than
merely scratch one's head...
  fiddle, scribble...
  double consonants...
for the bounce-effect in a word...
            or a hooded extract:
double vowel, macron,
an extension...

           but i didn't "discover" the english
language to be barren
without diacritical markers...
it was without diacritical markers
to begin with...

        i know, the shame,
but of all the languages i've heard
with this print: label Latin?
the pollacks have been the most
consistent
         in the play of rubric
of the syllables...
                  that clarity...
unfathomable within english,
or french...
              the french?
they write one thing, speak another...
that's why i didn't learn it,
it was enough for my custard
fest of using english...

         belittle...
         lite...
                    eh... that iota...
(looking up, no halo)
   does it really require an 'ed?
i'm repeating myself
but... ιota...
   there... no levitating...

                   i still believe in the plethora...
given there's no
worth for the current
                         plateau / zeitgeist...

get thrown into the deep-end
of the pool
   and learn to swim -

    the blah blahs will come
    any **** worth the parade,
i'll stick to the claustrophobia
of the heart giving me prompt,
than the "unaware" claustrophobia
of regurgitated opinion
of the mind's joke of a juggling act.