oculus per oculus - otherwise:
ear for a year...
a cherry pickled
and a cucumber sloppy
over an iceberg...
dicta: desired limbo...

otherwise: mollusks'
adventures in
the domain of sluggish:
via... no loitering
beside an echo
of: the loitering
around a figurative
sea...

         for an eye for an eye:
but give me van gogh's ears!
will there be...
    a burn agony of
deaf when cheese grating
and sizzling...

cut my ear off:
  the four horsemen of the apocalypse:
and that one
steadying a donkey's gallop...

cuts the ear off and sees
van gogh in a cubism of psychedelia...
the best greek / albanian will know...
spank a dozen morbid quasi
alt junction of:
reserving your place upon
the descent of a new kitchen...

granny grins... and granny sows
the grim architecture of an amiss...
  befriending shadows...
stating: toward the junctions
of reverse kleptomania:
the trench is not a grave...

            texan vector of blue-gushing
auxiliary vendors of...
that liquid breath...
                  by midnight i am no
cry of jurisprudence...
given a heart is a wheelchair
and the antihero is given...
a lollipop of Foucault...

blue suave within the confines
of the plethora of spices...
              because the miracle
of ginger and turmeric on the joints...

some variation of a time stopped...
a history is a corpse with
a breath of puffing ash...
and the suicides have to live
in Weimar Berlin...

           it's not that there's a fixation
on joke:
   discouraging...
a bureaucracy of capitalism like
that of socialism - one hand washes
the other...
two grand gestures of a narrative...
buttered side of the toast dropped
lands face-palm first...
                smothered bottoms up...
to this whirlwind cocktail
of events: my little world
of some variation of kafkaesque
personal:
                   it's hardly any argument:
genesis economics...
the litigation of processes that
end up being either scrapped or...
somehow borrowed from
obscurity:
                 a blockage of details
that heave no narrative except
a shrapnel guise...

                          this... thespian autocracy
over the arts...
we're all expected to write for free...
or... because it's free:
everyone is expected to do so!
no matter...
            i can hope to find
as much of the same procrastination
and anathema in my own
self-loathing i.q. quotas
of diminished replica responsibility...

            the british did save
the eastern indians...
    hell: the pyramids were kept...
because of their cuisine...
            a grand architectural people
came across a ***** of an eden
of spices...
not exactly scurrying for fruits...
forbidden or not...
the death of poetry came with:
a "nuance": sentence! poetic justice!
karma-rhymes?!

the blatant use of black cardamom...
cumin seeds...
"give me curry" in south america...
i.e. chimichurri!
advent of worship to the people
of a past that return to these isles...
like... a silk road camel caravan...
implosion of the seas!
clearly!
             no other year 0...
                    out of circumstances
that history allows...
nostalgia for the 1960s in england...
or 1950s h'america...

            nostalgia and the concept
of butterflies: dressed otherwise:
some variation of adjective to not
loiter around a noun like: concept...
something to expose a tautology
of misnomers in the riddle of a person
not accustomed to rhetoric:

            lay me to bed: body farthest...
mind agitated... come the agony
of being sentenced with a midnight
in an armchair; lay me to bed...
you have no honour: for you have no
reputation...
believe me: this is the least
of what ambition might desire...
consider... an arbeit macht frei work
ethos... a continual stream of 5am wake...
and those demands of
honest work: not the sort of work
of loitering...
         loitering like excesses
of libido: by office alone
of insignia procrastination...
       e.g. in a supermarket...
               could the security guard...
"take me"?
              i don't think so...
i would care if it was the end of the 19th
century and it was somewhere
like Colorado...

let to live...
   the dead have already fathomed
blisters of imprint with oysters
to tease a crab bucket 's worth of
a mounting pressure from
faking mountain with pyramid...

my what a...
******* of 11pm that any other day
would not give up...
me... exfoliating...
with: ambitions concerning Proust...
one up from a tease of Flaubert...
the darling the darling...
you will never mind a continental
writer cite Dickens...
   such an anglophonic extreme of...
   credible: furtherance?
no... not across the tadpole stream...
perhaps across the pond...

          not much to think about:
had i been born... 40 years ago...
                  i'm just sifting through the dust
and limp little richards
and ****** pillz-me-ups...
        and... i guess...
watching a stripper is a bit like
making epitomes of homosexuality
disguised in a well-off attire...
or... making concerns for attention
to detail... at the local butcher's...
however splendid the meat:
the "meat"...
geisha slender itchy tip-toeing quasi ballet...
yeah... one of those...
left-over crumb-fests
that's both Queen and U2
in the anthem criterium
of songs...

                    nothing personal UB40 paddy
go shackle: the urn to a *******
guillotine of harp...
                     such that living
on the isles the welsh, that the scots (as potential)...
certainly... are almost invisible people
should the demographic of Birmingham
be "stressed"...
                         but i have
lived in Scotland and it's unlike
this...       historical England...
this ahistorical London - even on
the northern outskirts in the home counties -
or nearest the trough of the south -
at some figment of my imagination
Brixton -
       how far do the earworms burrow beneath
the clay south of the river?
not very far... Morden?!
is that it?

     Lady Upminster and all that district...
this is not a time for either
rebellion or celebration...
             it's hardly a timekeep of
mourning...
                    it's an ahistorical event:
right now!
      some vagary of a future...
some bricks of a past...
a horrid interpretation of compass:
the crucifix: as driftwood toward north...
and a late cubism...
exfoliation of african ****** details...

             slender hue: my porky pie
pink amber come moonlight...
or some necessary stressor of skins...
                    prior to the door...
a leather doormat...
   onto which i made sacrifices
of my buckle and teeth... and...
                                                lepus dei.