drink about: just enough...
it's not a litre of ol' jack...
it's not whiskey it's not ms. Audrey
Auburn... or...
that Baltic stone...

   bursztyn...
        
Latvian declension... say what?
    amber... that's that stone...
Wittgenstein and the limits of language...
i thought this was an atomised
endeavour...

then again... i'm not worried about
an absolute good...
a relative good... or a trivial good...
it's not even about: it feels...
if it's good it probably implies:
back into my placebo solipsism i go: curl...
"hide"...
the least of the other is by my standard:
the only relevant... good...
how i abhor confrontations how
i avoid them:
i have made a life out of it..

so... just enough drinking... too much smoking...
and i've written, only, this...
well... i blame memory...
i've spent too much time in that cinema...
i'm not some Goethe, some patriarch...
on a deathbed with a stereotypical
cascade of: life cascading before my eyes...
i already see the end...
the pagan way... taking it myself...
overpowering the lateness of death...

i drank just enough i smoked too much
and... in all fairness... i wrote: am writing...
the bare minimum to pass this night off as:
well invested... in...

          Wittgenstein and the limitations of language...
chose a different topic...
i hear these moral arguments
concerning women...
like... will there: should there, be...
a hope for improving these...
under the flourishing freedoms...
these.... sleeper-sociopaths?

long gone are the days when a man
would crawl back into his mother's *******
to remind himself of being
somewhat tadpole...
my advent of self-gratification...
compensation...
******* a tear along with that genocide
of ***** not off-loaded to a bank
of sorts... since nearing 36 i'm finally getting
bored of the whole design of piston
works and a bony imitation ****...

sifting through the faces along a route
from the outer reaches of the M25
teasing at st. paul's cathedral...
long ago there would be a song
akin to... stereotype me...
chris isaak's wicked game...

tonight? i ended up drinking enough,
smoking too much
and remembering just about: plenty...
origins of imagination
are not the same as the origins of:
well no ought no thought:
language is altogether limited, no?
but i can't fathom the letters
for the intricacy of a sparrow song...
i can't write you a *******
onomatopoeia for that sound....

i'll be the first to lament...
the fact that...
it's impossible to fall it love...
love in the old sense of allowing some
tenderness... kissing the eyelids
of a *******...
so much for attempting to still glorify
being that ideal love...

we won't be hurting from any new
love songs... mind you...
the girls will continue to sing about:
party on!
i don't mind; Darwinism outside the
anglophone world is...
distasteful... mildly arrogant...
Darwinism is true...
but there's all that existential cafe
******* to mind
having a summary akin to:
yes... everything has a reason,
everything has a purpose...
nature abhors vacuums...

         i abhor Darwinism for the sake that
it suggests itself as being all-encapsulating...
it's ontology, it's etymology...
it's the ******* trust i put into traffic...
all as one...
oh but i out a lot of trust into traffic...
only today i was "mindless"... a speeding demon
via Bow...

i keep myself being childless with
welcome distractions...
other people... the monuments can stand:
for purpose of presumption and / or...
otherwise...
but peoples' faces... mostly rigid...
proper thesis of cubism... poker psy-op
inviting...

only today i admired ancient Rome with
the t.v. spectacle of Domina...
they were really... liberal... in the classical sense...
weren't they?
surrogacy was a big "thing" for them?
to be a man... and raise a child...
that's not your own... to employ the tactics of...
close-closeted-encountered....
you scratch my back i'll scratch yours...
Gargantua...
                          favouritism of relations...
there was never sly hand...
involved?
*****-please! back the **** away!
what's the proper term?
nepotism?!

oh? so it's agreed, upon...
there's a tinge of nepotism i might have to work around
like it's supposedly Russia?
and Russia is bad...
    
yes... Russian is bad... i will not speak
i will not write their cheap-*****
Cyrillic when, otherwise...
Greek might be attested...
5 years under **** Germany...
better... best... bitterest most:
than... that cringe of Bolshevik ****!
and i'm an extension...
part of the ****** plethora...
         sink 'em... the Russians...
into the cauldron
of the Caucasus... in with them...
along with the Ottomans...

the 1990s market for love song.....
when the if: idealism of woman was still
available....
rummaging in **** associated with:
sunset, sunrises...
why are these muslim teen girls...
doubling up on pretend shy...

i can't help being a tinge of traffic....
she no Yoko Ono...
but for the purpose of my... me...
wetting the *****-nilly...
just a thought:
consecration on the formidable...
posit of junction...

i'm not supposedly not speaking english...
hello... the end...
no hello... i'm bound to,,,
all that's left:
the twaffiic!

****-****-you!