i have lost what i once claimed to have:
i once claimed to allow myself
from thinking:
that my ego was the minotaur...
and thinking itself:
was an architectural process to make:
solid... a labyrinth...
                        i'd find less of being
and more of forgetting:
by finding a forgetting i'd also find...
a pleasure of not becoming:
which was never a negation
of being... outright: "to not" be...

         feeding the foetus nothing
all the supposed energies of: not born
of death...
  i once enjoyed writing my little
doodle-do-d'ahs...
   now i wager:
       a wagner... and...
              all that can be mustered:
total the clown-face make-up...
    eat candyfloss like a cat might
cobwebs...
      live the spirited life...

             i posit two antithesis mea culpas
as to why i don't find this
process the same old invigoration...
but there's a third...
the narrative of everyone and no-one...
what narrative?

i blame... "blame" having discovered...
franziskaner: weißbier...
noteworthy...
   the german "Z"...
              franцiskaner: weißbier
anno 1363...
      and... having quit smoking...
i guess i'm enjoying these two "things"
too much...
the third being... whatever the narrative
was... one could someone weave
a "counter" or at least a sub-narrative...
but now?

point-minder...
tell the difference between: чeck and...
                   чeat and... caron / corona "c"...
čisel...                  but the german Z...
is quiet unlike the supposed...
a-und-e... of the weiß...
      which is why... the russian comes
in handy...

              franцiskaner...
how can anyone not enjoy...
finding this beer...
quitting smoking...
                     working on one's own
garden... living the maxim from
voltaire's candide...
while the rest of the world has its
little adventure...
tea-hybrid hues of roses...
the newly wedded rolls of grass
to a well detailed...
     ***** of "hearth"...
            
                 i planted three rows of
radishes... and already they're puncturing
the soil from the bottom up...
white ping-pong heads...
   i'll wait for the burgundians till
tomorrow...
   the tomatoes and the cucumbers
will take care of themselves...
Seattle is no Woodstock...
                       so... anything can wait...

if this could come from something
necessary... like a toothache...
it this could come from something...
unnecessary like...
a suit and tie and social etiquette
for that tier of society that asked
for that sort of passport of credentials...

but i... having found this so-called
form of escapism...
when the ruling elites get their narrative-*******
together... i'll write my own little
pretex...
          i'll not find a voice in me
to shout down democracy...
           but i have two good excuses
as to why i'm slacking...
from the usual pleasure of sacrificed
thought from misty ghost heights
into the depths of the *****
and mattock...
          and all these words should be
written in coal dust...
and my fingertips should be...
noted... as... making milk impure...

discovering
    franцiskaner: weißbier
   and giving up smoking...
no wonder... i can't seem to get a *******
for what i used to get a "hard-on" for...

p.s.
      lammping - greater good (2020 single).