walking seems to
   only become relaxing
after having...
drank three bottles
of beer
            and having walked
about 5 miles...

i never understood jogging...

i just never felt
it necessary to do something,
that might make
your brain: custard...
sure, all the necessary
work,
        as associated
with industrial roofing...
  but...
              
       at least walking
allows you some sort of sanity...
you begin to wonder:

(a) ***** envy?
      what's that?
   i remember *** with a *******
who...
         had an ******...
  and... she said:
   'that's only the second
time it has happened to me'...
so i kissed her hands
and she replied
with a subtle version
of ouch...

thank **** i'm on the fringes
of society...
  anything beyond
a blank canvas would
                             **** me...

(b) why is memory....
so... fickle?
     and why is the modern
education system
such an erosion
       of this mental faculty?
yet memory...
  it's such a fickle component
of thinking, dreaming
and imagining...

          and yet...
there's dementia...
   imagination is unaffected...
demented people
imagine all sort of things,
as do schizophrenics...
  but memory,
what a fickle ontological
faculty...
      i can't remember what
i wish i could,
and remember
          something as basic
as 2 + 2 = 4...
    o r    t h e
                 f o l l o w i n g
set of spelling...
              my grandfather
is demented
   and he asks me
                 the same question...
fickle memory...
       erosive memory...
     and strain...
  from the days of school...
returning
            to templar chants...

less the sought after fame,
and more...
                   curiosity...

after 5 miles...
   you sometimes catch yourself
looking at your feet,
as if implying: robot...

          and all the otherwise
familiar junk...
    but...
    the cultural export
of h'america has...
                     subsided...
i can't remember the last
time i heard something
worthwhile
from that nuanced
continent...

                         it's not like
i can experience
     a seattle band anymore...
and all the current
banning of a "persona non grata"...
like me, circa 2015 on wattpad,
at this point...

                 the futility
of a gensis of the original
                  endeavour...

days when
nihilism has become replaced
            with fatalism...
     nihilism is dead...
   it's whatever is
to be made subject
to the already persisting norm...
         fatalism?
                  i'm too drunk,
and too overpowered
by having walked 5 miles...
to entertain countering
    the free will of "the other"...
which is the standard mentality
of someone:
   not born in a role
              of salesperson...

low blood sugar level...
and... this is crap?
so all that cushioned
tabloid journalism...
                                   isn't?

what about the
beta male column
     by robert crampton...
        what's that?
that.... that's                vork?
well, sure,
that's cool...
              i'll just fill
in this blank...
  and i'll also call it:
               vork...
          and not...
   stratum of suspension...

            better get the whip
out on me,
to get me moving...
   or...
          ****...
    you whip me,
i might even begin to enjoy it...

conundrum.