ol' jackie boy never fails...
bring me a litre of bourbon:
i'll try not to drink it all...
it's not even about pistons
and the sharpening of tools...
i'd love to cuddle some
more... but...
owning cats opened my eyes
to what's doubly-worth cuddling...
something furry...
although...
once i blunted my fingertips more
so than... expected...
on a brick wall...
i figured... if i take a feel of some
bricks... touching a woman's naked
body would allow me to
transcend the purpose of this otherwise
ugly itch of a: sacrificial lamb
at the altar...
Bertrand Russell's history of western
philosophy is still my no. 1 book...
well... Stendhal's the scarlet & the black...
oddly enough: only after i watched a
movie adaptation
starring Ewan McGregor as Sorel
and Ms. Weisz... oh i forget...
i just finished watching Mare of East-town...
my god...
apparently old age is hell for women...
she wasn't much to look at
when she starred in Titanic...
but look at her now!
she looks like am armchair...
comfortable as well-worn leather...
i'lll rarely mention anyone famous who isn't...
subsequently: also... dead...
but... this fiend of a woman is aging like
a man...
she's having all these pronounced features
of new discovery detailing her face...
like a Julian Moore...
Kate Winslet is aging like a man...
she's becoming more attractive with age...
must be a pseudo-Faustian pact of sorts...
of note...
one my favourite maxims of my
recently deceased grandfather...
'there are no ugly women...
there are only... neglected women...'
look at me... throw me into the arms of some
bulgarian ******* all bulging like
a beached whale...
i'll **** anything that moves...
but then again: no... i don't want to
break a tendon... i don't want a crane to work with...
i like the concept of the spine...
there's a beached whale voluptuous -
sexed up parabolas of curvature...
revising cubism...
and then there's just an eating disorder
the antonym of... anorexia...
oh i spotted two on my bicycle run through
the city... daddy-long-legged spider-esque
"things"...
but i am inclined to believe it:
there are no ugly women...
there are only neglected women...
derelict houses of leftover **** squat-ers...
- so as bicycle from the tease of distance
of the m25 through to st. paul's cathedral...
passing little Bangladesh of Ilford...
Manor Park... Forrest Gate...
it's not until reaching the sq. mile and brick lane...
there are no ugly women...
there are only neglected women...
the odd chance of a borrowed bicycle
and a solipsist with a fever to itch my
fist... while i reprimand myself
and: slow, down... on the anger against
this... giggle-traffic...
so i scratch my head: although i have no
itch... i'm just trying to calm down...
that's why i love the concept of creating
my own momentum...
even though... a horse at full gallop...
with the added thrill of teasing a wheelchair
and feeding through tubes...
i never had a fancy for cars...
a double-decker bus, yes...
there are no ugly women...
only... neglected women...
i wish it was like it was...
                  we could fiddle: fool spaghetti...
take each other on a turn...
even though... i can't supply a detail of
a body-count that might be...
somehow: competition savvy akin
to homosexual hook-up culture...
i speeded via Soho and found nothing
of what i expected from Amsterdam...
i want to... i "want" to... to hell with your wants...
i love women for the very fact
that i can't have them...
it's like having pets...
this much i can understand...

looks like i don't have the sort of money to
keep one on a pretend leash...
who conjures up a leech on a leash?
but ol' jack never fails...
jack is not expected to fail...
if jack fails... all else fails...

i've never seen so much of Loon'doon
as i have... only recently...
i could... venture into the countryside...
eh... why bother?
i want to be a tourist of a different kind:
i want to read into faces...
as they pass me by...
i want to read these faces
sometimes with protruding details...
sometimes without... even though...
they are... Somalian artefacts...
or...

               that's what i'm allowed to
confiscate: gravitate towards...
junctions of anger at woman...
as they come sooner rather than later:
recede...
i could be bitter and juiced-up for:
enough's a while: a while too prolonged...
she has ordained herself chess-master
and i'm merely scribbling...
it's not me... plumber... banker...
surgeon...             invest in a year that never
comes... conquest for the concern of words...

cold heartened visceral conquest of "man"....
at some point there was a narrative...
at some point it made: "sense"...
i'm trapped in a speedy assumption...
well only the teenage girls notice
me: as i, and they, know,
no better!

              the iron maiden cusp of time...
there are no ugly women
in this world... there are only neglected..
types, typos...
i truly want to be in love:
with love, again...
how... "something" or "nothing"
has to be this...

contrampl-
             cintrapleusised,,,
centralize-...
evil advent...
                   not counter...
no... compontranlised...
shuffling details of an envelope...
compartments...
i know there's a word...
    compartmentalised....
   i'll sooner
grit out: onomatopoeia than...
           compartmentalised.....
i too might take grief on the spelling...
round and round around Hyde Park,,,
a concept of a sinking sink....
grief of a foretold sheering of a Hyena "wool"..

it's not like English is impossible to leech of lurn...
it's just... it's own...
my own... beginnings... lost ends...
someone's end... beginning proper...
it's just tiresome to be...
noticed... by no other that 16 year old school girls...
"****" just undermines my masculinity...
then again: "maybe" it doesn't...

give me something furry...
i'll be sooner to cuddle it as sleep-prone than...
the naked piglet...
the roughage-recycler or sorts...
why-reach "beyond":
pivots on h'irish mafia...
i'd be sooner death than tell a...
grief of off a lie...

i want to be in love with women
like i might have been:
been given the pardon of youth's excuses...
that half: the least expecting demand of..
it will hardly become quizzical should i...
or any other: "progress e.g." make...
she needs ingesting...
she needs... foetal brain-drain...
i get it... poo'et... i write for... what?
procrastination?
              you sell me a ******* van gogh...
i tell you: it's not so bad..
jerking off...
i tell you... i sometimes put on latex gloves
when i write... when i ******* i start imagining
an elephant's ****.... to make reemphasis of
came the mammoth...
came some... space...
                  
once upon a time: i loved women...
once upon a time it was not as nearly impossible to
gratify them...
since that time.... since...
i want to... invest myself in imagining
a unicorn... i really do...
but then again... i loved women as much
as i will reiterate:
there are no ugly women...
there are only neglected women...

women akin to:
sooner i **** my sister than i wed you
as: most-stranger posit... gene safe... replenish basin...
it's not fair...
this crux of a stone-heart-entombing...
i want the wild nights of Barcelona...
the... whatever might have mattered in St. Petersburg..

i want you to love me... unlike a dog tied to  a leash
sort of love...
forget you... forget me...

i want to love women...
then again... i'm better loving up the demands
of ******!
look at me... if i were teasing the desire
for a mothering... cringe?