feed me!

           feed me!

vertigopolitix....

when...

  the sound of
a woman has,
become,
more,

    i guess: her image...

imagine my surprise...
she said...
   'you've only
been my second'

she implied ******,
with a frown....

lucky me...
hard for a girl these days
to unearth,
the receeding hariline
equivalent of a an incel...

i either die to beg for you,
or i beg to die without
you...
   which is which?
and the game?

                      game...
just a matter of spelling...
so is the glitter-bomb
of working in a slaughterhouse...
and all the polaroids...
but i'm your honey
bear cenobite...

               you know
how ugly,
how ugly a drunk's face
looks like...
  when looming
over a basic sarcasm face-
pictoid of attention *******...
it basically looks
like...
   a cat...
   taking a ****...
                 in the desert...
you want more,
mr. sherlock?!
mr. agatha christie?!
trans- enough for you?
what game are
we playing,
my pedantry
of a language that isn't
even my own...
can we please a simple
hide & seek i can
understand...
right...
zombie-cannibal-vampires...
so...
  an elevation from
U.F.O....
          
how many times will
you hear a *******
not perform
the words: 'you're my second'
having just ****** you
with you faking circumcision...
oh...
you mean the second
time she experienced an
******?
i must be a politico *****-please...
sort of curiosity...
most of the women in politics...
i'd **** them...
like... average looking,
on the prostitution
circuit...

want the stab
and the wound to breathe
like opening a bottle
of red wine?


                 no one has ever said
no, to me...
so i'm...
             what any dumb
lumberjack do...
chop chop some more wood...

see..
who needs a "pweety" woman?
i need a jaw,
ergo i need a mandible beauty...
something worth
my lips, my arms,
my torso my legs
to be left, agitated by...
i don't think anything
about trophy wives...
(borrowed term)...

                i need a body
with a ghost...
    i want to **** a shadow...
i want the upper echelon
of ***,
   and less...
of this stereotypical male
***** gadget
ready ***** bunny
tip-off, waiting on the sly...

you want the objectified
"woman"...
well... here's the man,
subjected to objectification...

******...
   no erectile dysfunction with
them...
     problem...
a one night stand
with a spanish girl
living with gays...
no amount of bath-time...
no amount of drunk fiddling
under bed-sheets...
suffocating...
will ever solve, me...
being unable to seek out love
at a mythical place akin
to Ibiza...

*******-dysfunction...
"     ",
                  1st date,
doesn't work,
2nd, 3rd, 4th,
on the 5th you're calling
your uncle about the pros
and cons of ingesting
****** to please...
whoops...
a hard-on appears...
you're hooked...
funny...
a hard-on always appeared
when attempting
to "tease" prostitutes...
so...
           ****...
so it's not about classical
art-works?
         not ****-******
literature from the 20th century?
oh...
beside that?
  ****-no-*******
type of barrier...
            
i need the cold...
    i'll sooner be bred free from
existence for any worth
of replica by:
anti-causality of global warming...
than any *******'s worth
of cultural standards and
norms...
i need, cold...
if there's another month of
june *** july...
and the same heat?
and how...
i'm... supposed to feed a "happiness"
offered by a sun-tan?!
no... i'll become racially-orientated
by...
             not having any willing
whim worth a person
to live out a life
under palm,
or therefore, reproduce,
to sustain this delusion...
            sorry... no...
         now tell the ******* eskimo...
to live in a mud-hut,
and ****-off with his
                               igloo!
sorry... nor niqab enough for you?