i can make two comparisons blindly...
1.
   stroking my beard feeds into the same sort
of relaxation pattern as it would
stroking a woman's thigh or
making finger-tip location: return-to
posits around the more boney aspects
of the body...
the knees... the collar bone...
hands... mein gott...
hands... they're so ****** since they:
i guess... are much smaller...
i can pick up a basketball with one
hand... i peer into this little oasis of
shrapnel bones and think: don't think...

ha... ***** envy... i finally figured out
the trick men play on women
when they send them their whittle richard
"selfies"... obviously they take pictures
of their "endowment" AFTER they masturbated...
not that i've seen any but i imagine:
not imagine... of sure... it sure looks much
bigger with all the excess blood...
it's not like they're sending them
pictures of a pre-******* phallus...
cocky men sending women pictures
of what women send men: all made-up with
make-up...

it's a ******* giggle fest from here on in...
i still get beard envy...
even though i think i've coming across
a sleeping set of genes...
it's a Scandinavian "thing"...
to have brown hair, green eyes...
a brown beard: now that the greys have
arrived at the zenith of what would
be sideburns...
i still retain the colour of my hair from
youth...
schnurrbartblondine...
then again: i don't know how the grammatical
cascade works, sometimes...
not from ancient Latin: i'm pretty sure
French is the opposite...
blondineschnurrbart...
oh... it's a very Scandinavian trait to have
one aspect of your ****** hair... lighter than the rest...
darkened over the years of:
Matrix-England overcast skies...
good luck getting a solar panel in 'ere...
but as i was cycling my not so usual route
through what's yet to become "no-go zones" of
London where Sharia law is primed...
this Asian girl walking with her boyfriend
purposively decided to stand in the cycle lane
and purposively made eye-contact with me...
i think i mentioned her already...
without make-up she still looked as
pretty as a Cinderella... and i'm sure Cinderella
looked pretty before she tarted herself up
for the gala...
in this grand theatre of the urban setting...
everything needs to be nuanced...
everything requires a micro-cosmos...
my Nigerian neighbour is giggling from
behind the wall... sometimes he'll have a drag
out of the window from one before going to sleep...
while i will sit perched for 2 / 3 hours longer
and smoke out a locomotive...
i wake up thinking that i was screaming
in the night... i still dream of nothing but the great
yawn: of either space or time...
the odd dream i get can paralyse me
for about an hour in bed...
how did light enter my brain when the eyes were
closed, and i esp. since i was sleeping?
did i stare at the sun too much?
when i do look at it...
it's just a pulsating ultra-violet orb...
unlike the moon...
sedative in the sky...
i cower to find the night and...
ol' baldy: in western Slavic the moon
is categorically masculine...
in this... curry of etymologies that's English...
the moon is a gender neutral noun...
although: i suspect there are subversive
connotations of it being male...
but then "we" arrive at Luna...
a shortening of Lunar... and we arrive at
a feminine exclusivity..
just like with her antonym... Sun... not son...
sUn... mr. inferno parabola...
or... Helios... most definitely male...
see... i don't get it...
"gender neutral pronouns"...
it's one thing... but nouns... can be
nuanced... they need... sexuality... or is it gender?
to be invoked...
to assert their presence...
i know that gender inclusivity is missing:
currently... in the "post-modernist"
take on this language...
but it exists... you can give a man the name:
Basil... Fawlty: not merely faulty... no?
you can name a man Basil...
you can name a woman Hyacinth...
or Rose...
so? ergo? there are no non-gender neutral
nouns... are there?!
why should pronouns
"suddenly" become... neutered?
is this the BIG CULL...
perhaps it sounds better in german...

   ist dies das groß pflücken?!

you never know: writing to Anglo-Saxons...
they're deaf... they're not deaf...
they have their heads shoved up Anglo-H'american
culture too much...
i might have asked their origins people:
but then they came up with
"too many" definite articles...
das... der... die...        ditto the whole lot of them...
i'm neither, either...
protestant disillusionment... it's rife...
i see it when entering those "no-go" zones
in London: i'm an outsider doubly outsider...
i'm not English...
i stroke my beard: i'm not into novels
beside of Stendhal...
Sienkiewicz...
all the romance... i have a head
riddle with a makeshift of a headache...
i tried to recreate the taste of bourbon fixing myself
with a concoction of Scotch whiskey
with some Southern Comfort:
no can do...
the bourbon ******* used some alias
or something...

Wittgenstein vs. La Rochefoucauld...
of course i'm drinking...
sober people writing tend to...
waffle! i liked Wittgenstein: tautologies...
for the tautology scrutiny:
red... crimson...

"metaphor" / "misnomer": "x"...
just presume that
language took a turn and everyone
arrived at the sane spot:  "smarter"...
no... ugly monkey wants to **** an ungly monkey!
i'm tired of the temporal...
the history through the lense of
Darwinism..
see how it happens...
Darwinism didn't have a hand in Copernican
poker... but... it had a hand in history...
Narcissus the greatest sufferer...

i look into a mirror: do i have to peer
at a monkey?!
hello the orangutan has down's syndrome...
those monkey eyes are so close together...
hell: hello....