i can only suppose that my expectations concerning
life... slowly fizzled out...
once i realised that i had no obligations
moving forward...
  obligation is a loose term:
              investments in responsibilities...
although: i still dabble in a variation of responsibility:
on a bicycle... minding traffic...
esp. at night... with no indicators...
or a front or a back light flickering...
aiming at 30mph downhill...
with my headphones in... not holding the handlebars...

what a silly little quest: at 35 i ought to have
a life resembling my father's, my grandfather's...
although: i'm not having all that much
"fun" that might also be expected in a man's
prime...
once in a while i'll wake up from half
a decade's slumber and shout:
that dwarf in the Game of Thrones will not...
have more fun in the brothel than me...
perhaps it was easier once upon
a time to wield a sword than
seek something from slowly downing
a bottle of wine...

there are moments of absolute terror
when i freeze all over and start
rummaging for my wallet after a night's ride
in my rucksack where i keep
my bicycle lock... for a splinter of what's
time... the entire tree:
that freezing sequence...
but then i find it and i remember
that... that one kleptomaniac in the brothel
didn't steal my debit card...
i guess it must be hard to go about
debit card fraud...
which is why i don't have a credit card...
although: so i heard:
you get better insurance if...
your credit card is... cloned...
but then: you also have the higher risk...
plus... at least with a debit card:
i can't spend more than i have...
i never liked the idea of credit...
it was a ******* nuisance...
i'll spend what i have...
if that involves me spending £120 for an hour's
worth with a *******
once every... half a decade...
by the time i'm through with: "man in his prime"
i'll have about... 3 notches on my belt
of... "conquest"...

while in between all those nights...
there was that handy... cheap... but handy...
£4.99 bottle of new south wales' Merlot
to ease into a dreamless sleep...

ooh: soppy puppy...
  unless listening to some French escort...
the prince charming the white night...
the mistress contra the wife...
such attitudes only French people can have:
of a certain economic stratum...
not among the yellow vests...
no no... the fairground carousel people...
professionals...
limitless: who... on a whim...
want all that: XAOS...

  interlude: just some doodles that kept
me awake before i drowned them
with a slice of bread
and some... pork: BRAWN
(pork tongues, pork jowl, skins, pork liver)...
am i missing something
beside the Swedish sweet mustard?
the gelatine...
but after the red wine:
i'd **** for a raw herring in some...
oil / vinegar and onions...
ooh... slurp me another sire...
this Baltic sushi!

    (that Hannibal Lecter slurp sound
that i will not bother to write an onomatopoeia
for)...
my sunken cheeks! my folding tongue!
tears in my eyes
are the memory of the taste that:
when retested... is always the same...

between what's..
hope... and faith...

  well... nadzieja and: wiara...

hope and belief...

hop along: e-tymological...

be a leaf: of this grand tree with past...
  otherwise the secular variation
of belief:
the negation of doubt...
was... belief ever a certainty...
or a masquerading of:

  "something"... ahem... "else"?

hope is faith
in that hope isn't belief...
belief is rigidity... orthodoxy...
faith is that one on the sly: *****-nilly...
faith is an indefinite article...
belief is a definite article...
perhaps in other related languages
but esp. in English...
the scissors of a-          -the-
  and some variation of -ism...
it cuts through most things, words...
subject matters...

  faith: indefinite... articulation of off...
sometimes even from...

it must be a balancing act... i write a sentence
akin to: hope is faith
i might as well draw a red circle...
or a blue triangle...
of a green square...
by any standards of "logic" and "image":
it's hard to imagine 2...
unless you're cycling for 2 miles...
20mph: but that requires a multiplication
of 2 via 0 and the mph suffix...

2 is hard to "imagine": translate into an image...
it becomes too symbolic:
a symbol isn't an image...
a pair... most likely...
2 would be a 7... with a curved base
and medium: chiral... chimera...

hope is faith = a red circle...
what's more important is...
  the secular variation of: to counter hopelessness...
the antonym of belief:
the negation of doubt... oddly enough...
the antonym of belief shouldn't
be the negation of doubt:
since the antonym of belief is doubt...
well: the antonym of doubt is most probably
negation...
bad faith... alias...
        
a drunk's muddles... muddles...
spaghetti for shoelaces...
now i rather walk either barefoot or in one sandal...
my left foot...
i'm right-handed ergo right footed...
i'd need a sandal on my "weaker" foot...
which foot is supposedly weaker
when i'm peddling?
kicking a ball... sure... the "weaker" left foot...
foot... because not the whole leg...
holding a pen: my right hand...
but i could coordinate left hand fingers
pointing as i would with my right hand... fingers...

- yes... the wine... to oil up my fingers
and to wet my appetite for the tongue
to rummage in its cave of 32 pearls...
then a knockout of a trap of ms. amber...
to put me out of my "misery":

and with these words: what conversation
would i have... a challenging life...
there is so much everyday soap opera drama
to get through though:
eyes glued to the television... perhaps...
the news: i'm still going to vouch for
a higher status of advertisers to that of journalists...
after all: in the editorial section...
the commentary section:
newspapers are sold... they're not pamphlets...
journalists are not... punk:
they're not pamphleteers...
apparently...

  are these words sacrosanct?
          nor are the words in a newspaper
in the opinions section:
are these words... cursed? i imagine they hold
a sway of cruelty about them...
teasing with mottos like:
to make art rather than money...
to forever escape the formality of language:
i'll be perched on a windowsill:
the whole 6ft2 200lb of me
cradling the night and...
one insomniac magpie or a crow...
accomplice of the moon...

ol' baldy... tod-kopf... grinning idiot...
and his nation has the flag
in the following colours:
red, yellow and white...
  i will not make money:
i already don't earn what i wouldn't
otherwise spend...
even in central London i pass these
homeless men and think:
they have achieved the stature
of Diogenes of Sinope...
but they're still... clutter of what could
agitate thought...
i found one mesmerised into a mantra
bemoaning the river of people
imploring them to see him:
the solipsist that he was...

the mantra run along the lines of
the following words: 'some recognition, please'...
on a ******* loop...
if i were down there:
i'd ask for a flute... while rendering the rats
to an obedience...
whimsical me... the charm of a dream...
although not tempting dragons
into the whole affair:
stray dogs is already pushing it!

- a dietary requirement of needing to feed
on... cow intestines...
the thirst word that comes to mind
via my translation: trollop...
tripe soup...
                    and all the edible parts of
the pig's body... including the parts
adorned to be worn as leather:
shoes... belts...
                            mmm... i will never understand
the Semite: whether Hebrew or Arab...
the critique of the desert gods' critique of
pig...
sheep stinks... here's mine...
you can eat almost all of pig:  except the nails
and the oink...

dry ******* a camel's... ****?
in between that... currency of Dubai buck latex:
only-fans: watch an American girl **** into
a bucket?
oh sure... this one time in Amsterdam...
i walked in on one of those peaches
of Puerto Rico...
she kept the window open so she could
moan... entice more customers in...
a little black boy brought me a can of beer...
while she ****** into a bucket...
all gratis...

i'd win the lottery aiming at homelessness
in Amsterdam...
just for the licks, kicks and...
lycra long-shorts... worn beneath...
decent garments for peddling...
the closest material i'll ever come across
to... compare with... mr. and mrs. gimp's latex
full-on... save the church: attire...

- i might have mentioned this once, twice...
thrice already...
a collection of 72: dobbermans,
rottweilers and alsatians stand between
me imagining a middle ground between
Valhalla & Jannah...
forgive me from lying to those timid
creatures... who probably turn out to
be man-flesh eating mermaids...

a ******* tamed by as many pedestrians
as she might already be tamed by:
and a ******? and there's supposedly
72 of them?
**** it... throw in a wrestling with
72 rottweilers...

to objectify a woman with metaphors:
is as close as i'll ever come across
painting an imitation Munch...
  *** like a Lamborghini...
a body of a well worn armchair...
and all the rest of "it": experience of an alcoholic
surgeon...
the whole body: an extension of her
mandible parts: esp. the jaw...
how she pretends to eat "something" would
needing to tease beyond the tease
of the nibble: all the world in the foray
of foreplay... before the "ugly" parts
come together: the eyes come first...
the tongues... the hands... the lips...

the arithmetic of fingers
and the arithmetic of the remaining body parts...
if i were rich enough to: if i were as poor as ****
but had the capacity to paint:
perhaps...
pause... insinuate a punctuation that's: mine...
forget the form... the rigidity of both
rhyme & / or lyricism...
of those brackets of verse of paragraphs...
now i'm looking for an imitator...

- perhaps unlike the analysis of Samuel Beckett's
use of the bicycle...
by none other than Milan Kundera...
come the nacht...
the air thins out...
i receive a jolt of momentum...
i can hear church bells from a mile afar...
and trains: that give of a whiff of
horses galloping imitation:
the air thins out... i gain momentum...
i like the concept of generating my own
momentum: breaking my body...

plus... the bicycle has given me
the added dimension of meaning:
with speed i have an AGENCY...

- i "think" of a woman i think of her
walking into the forest with me
in the zenith of the night...
impossible to come by...
nay: imaginary...
  who's this pseudo-Athena...
this Sophia that never materialises...
this almost Aphrodite deity that bridges
the concept of titan with man?

come night and some flashes of genius...
come day and a return to:
all that's accurately mundane...
the same people talking with their same
lot of arrogance... pride... fakery...
hoisting up their litany of...
          keeping up:
well... it was hardly called
sense & sentimentality...
was it? it was called: sense & sensibility
for a reason...
although: at the time of writing...
prudent girls:
2nd or 3rd or 4th wave of the ****** revolution:
seems to me... only the girls have
progressed...

the white girls are making all the shots:
said one mixed-race guy to a white boyo
on a street...
i guess they are...
do i mind?
i'm into Turkic girls...
ol' raven haired types...
blue-black hair types...
ink types...

              blotches of cull against the wind...
the sensation of pouring some whiskey
into a glass where once...
those red stained ice-cubes entertained
a more sober moi...
a more: deliberative typo...

don't mind me...
but if my freedoms are being undermined
by a polity of objects expressing their freedom
in a fashion:
of... however much they don't wish or want...
but nonetheless do...
here's my: butterfly to their... hurricane of...
nonchalance...
murdering them isn't enough...
living with them is already a ******...

if only i... if only i...
hence my need to remind myself: solo...
cycling in the night...
aiming at the prospect of a traffic accident...
for the thrills for the Parisian
cosmopolitan affair simulation...

goodnight: riddle and riddance.