since it became plain...
i'd rather imagine a kiss as...
clashing bone against bone
with a doberman of my youth...
biting its next to come
aesthetic "improvement"...
the sliting of the ears so they'd stand
***** as antenas...

where else to scout for unncessary blood?

i imagine a kiss to be equivalent
of something homosexuals dream of...
oh... my all your gracious concerns...
i too never ******
to care for procreation...

that's all before the myth that
heavy metal never couple itself
with hippy quasi-pop music
when it came to song-writting
and ****** abuse...

what?! before the a.d.h.d. phenomenon...
and trans-, transition hormone
assignement "therapy"...
before the junkies did the 7/11...
and the trainspotting...
before marylin manroe started
to speak with a husky welsh accent;
and ****?

i imagine a kiss i imagine a clash of canines...
i imagine full-on Eden ******* as:
tailoring to don some leather:
as little as a belt - as much as a pair of shoes...
let's not exaggerate to have to don
a jacket or a pair of...
"east coast" leather pair of trowlers..
yes yes: thinkestein patrick moore nervy
talk-talk back talk-talk:

there once...
there was...
either way: before the... yo bats me up
tow a granny... perv prior:
me woz a teen hot-take...
a prosecutor's *****...
a jail-bait fan-dom star...
the last voice that's revelling
in your acquisition priv. as a sentient:
self and consciousness in tow...

and it's not... your new found
"ex" english girlfriend...
with her dry rot sarcasm and what not...
because her accent is:
less of Leeds and more of Bristol...
and this is the vicinity of Loon'don
and... the deflated is the only tire
to suppose a turning motion...

and because the story of the happy...
i didn't have to wonder
for a love of my life...
one **** solved this "demand"
for pristine: look-after-each-other...
pay the tax dough...
look after the elders of strangers...
work for free! even!
that's good...

****: because you will better ****
when she's just nearing...
what was a menopause scare...
and the bride and groom brittle brat & sons and dau.
as always: **** with responsibility
to be towed!

always the never new: to ward of evil spirits...
entertain gagging them via
a cackle... more than a spoon's
worth... since Alice is bound to meet
Harry, George and Terry...
i'm probably whittle tow-e...
with... looking after grooming...

Alice's daughter...
somehow the name... Lola Flanery...
mixes itself up with my least Led Zeppelin
album and a song used for one of
my most favorite t.v. projects - sharp objects -
in the evening...
no verse... just a suspect suspense...
and no chorus...
just a relief from there being a chorus
spectacular...

does the film: the blue lagoon really require
the name Epstein...
when you can have a name like Lola Flanery
against Brooke Shields
or the elizabeth taylor jr.

three cockerels to one hen?
target audience i see...
otherwise what is it?
sugar-daddies and their supposed "babies"?
what's not the next if not next
to any forbidden fruit, for man?
adulation for the pre-through-to-hindsight
of what's the guillotine "fruit" / fate...

a man who has spent his time...
without the audience of ageing women...
will most probably look toward...
the pristine...
the purely imaginative...
his own borderline experience
of the crux of puberty...
or... akin to my 8 year old self:
premature puberty onslaught...
to have masturbated without having *******
but to have a later "revelation"
that the ******* of ***** has nothing
to do with "it"...

maybe my own 11th and only observation...
watch a film and the phantom
industry of self-gratification via day-dreaming
disappears and leaves you stranded
on Onan island... hopefuly with enough
leathers' worth of baggage and boots,
belt, trousers and tortoise shell of skin...
while all those no kippah-donning
start looking like scalped-heads...
and none... well apart from the old-skins
and those butchering the week old shadow
of the week old shadow of...
growing bald... via an inheritence of their father...
scalp-butchers-of-the-shave i call them...
skin-heads were and are...
the men who knew they would grow bald
or with a cranium crown worth of beta-male hair...
add to that the weakening of eye-sight
and 1980s pomp?
you get the drift...

this is very much teasing the opportunity...
i've had enough of a chance with one
14 year old in real life...
a black cat was my prosecutor and she did end up
in her father's cab after i reunited her with
a quarrel's worth of a friend
after a teen party...
i was walking out of a darkened park,
climbing over a fence and...
later taught her how to roll a cigarette...
bulgakov... butterflies...
exposing her cleavage...
the niqab would do just as well...
unless you want all the men to be blind...

or if you have arrived...
what doesn't give me a ******
when i look at... barbaian women...
papa new guinea and the historical myth of
the congo? i see sag... i don't see page 3...
i see the wrinkled *******
of an elephant's trunk...
not some glistening phallus of glass
and metal... a niqab is a welcome interlude
to 1 + 1 = 2... the transition period...

that sorry of state of missionary
hetrosexuality in beneath the bedsheets
cocoon ***...
even if an english girl...
with her ******* dry sarcasm...
her... drifter quote having escaped
Manchester... and made it to Loon'don...

it is a forbidden fruit...
it's a delicacy for what otherwise starve
the unimaginative...
one's own sacrilege coming to the fore...
because once a woman ages
and she is not part of your memory:
this new "adventure" of the cosmopolitan life...
of how...
i can play the pawn on an abstract
of a chessboard...
i don't need to play the pawn in real life...
i can do the Leibniz and explore...
what needs to be explored...
and satisfy myself with the prop of librarian...
there's no need for me to hide
my homosexuality by attaining statesmanship
and honours and a Westminster Abbey's
gravestone akin to Newton...
nor the peerage or to sigh at being knighted..

this is not a Eugenie de Franval observation...
it has nothing to do with...
the beauty of the daughter over-powering
the beauty of the mother...
no... much worse...
twice! by my count...

i dated two girls and...
if... the girl was not immediately preceded
by a son... or was not immediately succeeded
by a son...
i.e. if she was the eldest daughter...
and she had a younger sister...
well... that's the only example... twice!
i ended up dating this sister...
but fancying the younger as...
the more bountiful in spring...
the elder... well... what man aged circa 21
thinks about arriving somewhere when
it's Autumn or Summer...
unless it be Paris in Summer...
notably summer... ergo? inquiring as to also
being gay...

i have never met an elder sister that
i wouldn't relieve myself for the younger...
notably because... there was no interlude
for a woman to give birth to the opposite ***...
the younger sister was always more
beasutiful than the original intent...
"original"... "intent"...

there's only ever one sort of love:
the better to be best ******...
like catering... crisp white linen bedsheets,
napkins... a well rinsed palette
of anticipation being met with...
oysters and apples -
soft, supple... yet tangy when spoken of
in cockney slang...

is a poem only that? rhyme?
no... and i have taken a... fiction readers anonymous
session... rehab from fiction!
does it always have to be rhyme...
or... no... i do not have a twitter accound...
or handle... or... what gab.ai is...

Leibniz and Newton sitting in a tree...
one was gay and had to cover his tracks...
the other settled for role as librarian and...
whatever luck the german sentiment
could ever burden...
before no crown of the almighty myth of
Arthur... but donning the cufflings
of some minor prince of: say... Brandenburg.