please! i need this reiterated!
what's so wrong with "subjectivity"?
is that a feminine trait?
is the "masculine", "suddenly"
fizzying out like
a soft-drink infused with
carbon dioxide: the breath of the dying
composed of bubble?

what is a spem ******* into
a tissue? a genocide?
what is a ***** *******
into a female?
the next jesus christ...
the abortion scrambled egg?!

at what point to i disown...
disavow the coming
of the Serbs slaughtering the Ottoman
muslims in former yugoslavia?

i ******* into a tissue...
i disown i disavow...
hello the vatican mafia
of: why not simply cut my ***** off
like i'm the third *****
gas chamber conscript...
because the new wave dodos
are about to flock, settle down...

when the ***** is mine...
but when a woman comes
into contact with it...
vampires... aren't they simply romances
told of familial relations
associated with lepers...
aren't vampires the sort
to breed a.i.d.s. -
that lost acronym...

aren't vampires the romance
associated with a blood-disease?!
romance... my ***...
call him either hey-zeus or bat-fixation-allam...
jesus and balaam...
two donkey riddles among
horses... and broken spines... of the jockeys...

   acne... an excess of my body producing
too many white blood cells..
right, major major....
understood! standing uptight and on
privy!
i have mushroom of these dead
white blood cells pouring
out of my ****** pores
            (when squeezed or forced
under a pincer of the nails seeing
not manicure)...
like belzeebub taking a ****
with readily available eager maggots!

mosquitos i'd **** for fun...
flies? i'm rather bothered with my new
faith: the plethora of doubt...
faith should never become
the antonym: negation...
islam abhors the unbelievers...
un- is a negation...
non- is a doubt...
islam should pardon those in doubt
as it embraces those
"with faith"...

   i doubt because... i've seen all
the other cul de sacs of expressing an anchor
to an already sinking ship...

the arabs do not like the turks...
last time i heard, from that random...
lawrence... the camel jockeys abhor
the turks... after all... the quran came unto
the arabs... as did the oil...
the turks are the lesser nomads...
kazakhs... or that other rugga-muffin tribe
from the belly of hunger that's
siberia... the tundra hinterland...
not exactly a saharan fata morgana...

i like doubt to be:
the combined negativity of emotions
with: how can one conjure a positivity
of thought? how can anyone even genesis
a binary of thought?
does... a non-binary of *** even "work"?
i also like doubt to be:
the motive for cogito per se -
it's an open and the end:
scenario of words...

             turk is the primo muslim...
heard the arab...
said wha'?!    the turk was to dwarf the arab?
what about all that sunni and sh'ite islam
debacle?
clearly it's not merely an iranian "terminology"
lost to xerxes beating the waves
of Thermopylae...

the man thus... i guess i must also be...
no... back in the day only men were literate...
i was also inclined to be a favourite
of the spoon and fork...
i must be a woman to write!
i must be a woman to write!
as was Horace prone!
               as was Dante prone!
****'s expressio! muschi alles das ist!

wasn't an immediacy of schism apparent?
the persians would not bow before
some arabs - even with their now apparent
gold... these camel jockeys...

nor a turk... in a suit... a muslim is a turk
or some dirt mongol -
the lament of baghdad?!
no wonder the persians would deem
themselves...
protestant or catholic?
i don't think it matters...
we're still waiting for the one true monotheism
to reach Lebanon and the protestant guise...
the catholic primates of Tehran...
and the orthodox ball-crushing origins
of a Mehdi in waiting come...
Mecca under ibn-Saud...

            look to the east...
what is east of Mecca? Riyadh...
                                such are my eclectic concerns...
a turk a muslim...
unless of course...
       some **** entered the notre-dame de paris...
left undistrubed...
like mehmed II... entering the hagia sophia...
almost immediately wishing
to contract building a replica...

  whatever the name is / was...

for all their riches beneath the sand...
their yachts... boredom from wealth
is a fickle bedroom demon to tame...
    sooner or later... Moldova laments:
why are we not part of Romania
and not given st. petersburg's window
into the world: with an access to the seas?!

why do egyptians or any north africans
need to be invoked in this affair is beyond me...
well... the moors...
i once knew a people that made pyramids
by ******* into the sand
having retained hope for mountains
by having ivory moulds to replica
that sort of ambitions...

the pyramid is the never before seen
mountain... among the dunes...
what is a desert? what a mountain range looks like...
if you have... the sort of dodo patience
necessary...
genesis *** ape? really? that's it?
i can look further afield than:
just becomes it looks similar to man...
just because...
you stated the categories...
a whale is a mammal!
                  
           and, thus, somewhow,
coming back to time via journalism?
seriously?!

                    i'm out of "it" quiet literally without
any constraints of consentual time ref.:
consensual...
                   what the **** happened to:
i consent to?
                  
again: what's wrong with subjectivity?
am i not assured being: being subjected to something...
don't i have to be: a priori: subject to "it"...
before i can be: a posteriori: objective about it?
what's with all this, modern,
objection to subjectivity "sensibility"?

on the basis of objectivity per se...
sorry... no...
you have to be subjected to algebra-A...
before you can spew retrogade objectivity algebra-B...
for no greater purpose other than
to peacock on the "logic" spectrum...
first comes subjectivity... of being subjected to...
then... only then comes the desired
objectivity... you can only be objective...
a posteriori... when you have been subjected...
a priori to "it": as ever... always the most elusive "it"...

subjectivity is "b'aaah... b'aaah bad"...
objectivity is: cul de sac "logistics" of perfecting
gwam-ar... or grammar: in velsh...

but how can you become objective / be, objective...
if you haven't been the / a... subject of...
something to... object to...
subjectivity is the terra firma...
and it tends to "hide" when coming across
a non-schizoid non-bicameral
non-bilingual... binary...
                           to harvest objectivity...
i guess you first need to be subjected to...
what you'll later object to...

in the safety of an "objective" 1 + 1 = 2...
is the subjective a priori...
and the objective a posteriori?
well... no... or no: i hope...
i hope but i can't hope...
since i was so ******* naive...
          
             nonetheless... this suppossed superiority
of objectivity over subjectivity...
binary in some circles...
                zeitnahsprechen...
berliner: schwer-auf knifflig-stück...
         do i look like a ******* gypsy-king
diet-prone on solely: makrone?
looking for alcholics among the arabs...
and... caffeine and sugar addicted norwegians, too?

objectivity: alles gut!
beginning from... where?
   nothing requiring you being subjected to:
in order to object to a furthering recurrence?
even a crow listens in on what i type...
he has to be the sole insomnia prone
bird in this vill-age...
unless of course... hoarding odin is listening...
and that wasn't just any crow...
it was...      ᛗᚢᚾᛁᚾᚾ...

to hell with ᚻᚢᚷᛁᚾᚾ...
         i'm with my memory... somewhere else...
and it's certainly not a seat
in... playing role... for some cameo cinema
outtake!

there we go... a croaking in the night...
mind you... you always have a pornographic
seat of viewing pigeons trying to procreate...
right before your eyes...
hard to spot one crow courting another
crow in ned (yes, not need)...
of a desperado ****...
                pigeons just love voyeurs...
crows: still remember the mother woods...

and will not: **** or pretend to **** in
public... pigeons on the other hand?
**** anywhere **** anything that moves...

so much for a new or nuanced god...
iconoclasm drifter...
like C is supposed to represent
the half-lit moon of death's harmonica
played into the whistling scythe...
or some other wordly load of *******.