this guys venom, that guy is carnage, some other dude is playing the role of oh to hell with these supposed "guardian angels" / demons of want of conscience... if i'm spotted in public talking... can you please see that I'm talking to my ******* shadow?! wer wachen mich?! engel, dämon, that third breed of creatures... genius?! nein nein nein! mein schatten... i talk to my shadow, obviously i try to do so outside the realm of where people congregate... not football stadiums... a forest, a graveyard at night... this here is RIOT... me? i am MAYHEM... i was born in May... when the Chernobyl spectacular happened... ergo? i'm mayhem... oh i've seen this done... 6ft5 guys talking about being all hard... i'm only 6ft2... the girls have this funny argument when dealing with football fans: but you wouldn't talk to your mother, your sister your daughter like that... it's a football match... great line of defence... me... 10 shifts down... i don't think i've had any beef doing this steward business... i just look the part... i don't get any trouble... i do get compliments: oh... looking smart ol' chap... first line of defence? look presentable... look authoritative... to hell with being built like a brick-*******... give them some time... wait a while... chances are i too might... roll my eyes back... hide my irises and my pupils and only peacock the sclera of my eyes... but by then i'll be all berzerker mode... i'm ******* gagging for a physical altercation... like, i was watching this mini-series on the BBC about the 4 killings... 4 lives? yeah, about those killings in Barking circa 2019... 4 killings might qualify you as a serial killer... but what a ******* ******... he collected toys... he killed by injecting the poor sods with a drug that alleviated their homosexual inhibitions, perhaps gave them a hard-on... whatever... people killed by pseudo-autistic... o.k. they were killed by a ****** and not some Ted Bundy... not some Jack the Ripper: the mythological son of Cain... who... will never get caught... police at work... great Scotland Yard... a ****** just killed four gay boys and you're bound to ******* paperwork as the "real" police work... no wonder, eh? the killer was a ******* ******! then again, i also blame the victims... some people are just outright painfully - obviously... dodgy... why associate yourself, or even live... with people with absolutely no charisma?! no bravado? if you're going to get killed... at least make sure they kiss you before they stab you... what?! if i were to **** someone i'd shave my beard, shave my hair... i'd make sure it happened in a forest, at night, with a full-moon... and i'd kiss them while stabbing them at a crux point; i am "Judas": i am "Cain"... if someone is going to **** you... you want some ******* dimensions, at least 3: 3 will do nicely... but this killer... run-of-the-mill average Joe... great policing: clap clap... where's the nearest party? no. 10, Downing St.? on it! no one wants to be killed by a ******* socially awkward ******... a tornado, a tsunami... anything but this sort of *******! i grind my teeth... i have to grind my teeth... i feel like resurrecting Robespierre!

giddy like a ******* school girl, i seriously thought that
this part of me was dead, long gone, bye-bye...

i could have admired Bukowski in my 20s... and 20 year old
might... but i had a little think about it:
sure, i'm not surprised he could brag
about all the women he slept with,
why the FBI might have been interested in him...
but, then again, he was writing at a time
when... what?
                          erm... world war II happened...

most of the men who went off to war didn't come
back... plenty of ***-starved: bereaved women...
sounds like paradise...
hell... a postman: that also writes poetry on
the side...
                and i will never forgive the publishers
for this... Kafka explicitly implored for his books
to be printed in large print...
guess what most of Kafka is printed as...
in the small print...
                           almost subscript lettering...
and i'm not exaggerating...

but fire-**** Bukowski even though he wrote
sparingly (considering the oeuvre of other writers):
MASSIVE ******* PRINT...
CAN SEE IT FOR MILES...
COULD BE USED AS STREET SIGNS...
fair?
            
            it always happens... as you get older...
first you admire someone, then you... not exactly despise
them but... admire them less: you have your own
**** to deal with and when it comes to a democracy...
well... we're not going to admire the Quran
by the likes of things, are we? we might be a
bibliophile civilisation but that's hardly going
to make us become chained to just one book...

who wrote? didn't a woman write the Quran...
the older, business minded first wife of Muhammad...
Khadira? Khadija? ****... it's the latter...
write the first and you're going into Godzilla
territory (phonetically)... did she write the first surahs...
or what... magic pen, magic paper,
magic hand of an illiterate person wrote it?
after all... wasn't ol' Mo rejected by the Mecca crowd
and had to ******* to Medina?

then again... how did he come across the teachings
of the Docetics - a Gnostic cult that... is currently sitting
pretty at the zenith of Islamic orthodoxy?
anyway... meditate on this, meditate on that...
i'm currently meditating on Gemma...

oh, but i was fuming throughout the day...
i worked maybe too shifts with this **** of a silly girl
who's studying for a law degree...
wants to become a barrister... talk in court...
but can hardly conjure herself up to steward shifts
at events...
she came up with this crap about how:
there are too many old white men
in the practice of jurisprudence...
she isn't Pakistani... she's Sikh or Hindu or...
never mind: i tell her... as long
as a meritocracy is place...
      what... too many whiteys in India?!
too many whites in Kenya?
so... what's the ******* reasoning?!

i'm too polite... i just wait... i wait until people
buckle under their own argumentation,
mind you: i write, i breathe...
but then i focus on something... something...
much more... precious...
Gemma...
what the **** is wrong with me?
why have i turned into this teenage boy?
am i going back to high-school?
am i going to ask her for a photograph
so i can sketch a picture of her face?

red flags everywhere...
she was impregnated by an abusive alcoholic...
who battered both her and her son...
but if whiskey could be used to mould:
she literally is ms. amber: fräulein bernstein...
i'm getting butterflies in my stomach...
having met her on a shift on Saturday
i stopped jerking off...

    come off it: i ******* like i take a **** or take a ****
or take a shower... it's my:
no. 1, 2, 3 & 4 rule... no... no scented candles...
it's like exercise... i want to keep *** out of my head...
like i want to keep germs out of my head...
Gemma... what the **** is wrong with you
that's right with me...
3 days without jerking off?
wow! that's almost coming to the stamina
i achieve when i used to visit my grandparents
and could go absentee ******* shuffle
for over a month - when my grandfather was still
alive...

prior to: 35... still always want to ****...
if not thinking about *******...
waiting to **** a ******* and jerking off
just after squeezing out a loaf on the throne of thrones...
the ergonomics of manhood...
well... she's not a ******... she's not... "available":
just watch the movie: as good as it gets
to get the picture... single mum...
my prospects? on the pile of recyclables...
if she went for a "***** donor" that later became
an abusive alcoholic...
what is... an artistic alcoholic like myself to do
about her poor decisions?!

the **** am i? Claudius Maximus X...
  that ancient Rome fetish for fostering children...
uncles becoming fathers etc.?!
oh yeah, that's still in me...
but what has Gemma done?
put a having iron maiden ****** on my phallus...
prior to... **** anything that moves...
literally... Thai surprise... a Turkish *******...
ooh... oh oh: **?
now i'm only thinking about her...
Gemma Gemma Gemma...
ginger English rose...
                                   *****!

she fixated herself in my mind...
i think of her my testicles suddenly swarm like...
parasite infested wounds... my ******* are tingling
and i feel like circumcision is on the horizon:
like **** it is... ******* with your Hebrew / Arab
practices...

     Gemma, girl... you know how to drive a man...
crazy... i've been with a few prostitutes...
but this, darling... is something best associate
with the "upper shelf"...
i'm going nuts & bolts &           peanuts?!

it best happen to you:
you meet a girl & you stop thinking about jerking off
or going to a brothel...
sure... she's like a Pablo Picasso 'weeping woman'...
but no... you're looking for
  
   o.k. **** that cubist approach... Pythagoras somehow...
no, he wasn't... the woke brigade broke rank
and motivated me...

it's either Picasso's ******* or it's... i'm not even
going claim the Mona Lisa to be the pinnacle...
PERRONNEAU's
   Madame de Sorquainville...
   meint gott: das lächeln? fast, alles!

ich wollen: chaos!
               unbelebt dinge erscheinen mehr...
   unbelebt, dinge-veranlangt?!

oh Gemma Gemma...
what have you woken?!
        i imagine myself fathering someone else's child...
why? i can keep a distance akin to:
pet a cat, or a dog, recently?
same... father someone else's child = pet a cat...
like i don't come with a ******* exoskeleton...
like i'm... not capable of...
serial ******... i sniff fear...

                              ich abwarten;
ich hegen: die ältere sprache...
                                                    die wurzel!

              obviously if i will not get any *** from Gemma...
enough time passes... what?! cower in some
variations of the middle-class sensbility,
watch the ******* t.v.?
i''ll be scouting for some ***... i'm not even 40 yet...
of course i'll be... i somehow try to forget chewing on
my tongues... feeding into her inhibitions
of chewing on her tongues...
oh Gemma, Gemma... you are such a lovely lass!

i wish... i could have married you...
time, that ******* thief!
oh well... but i could be the supposed father that's your
son's uncle... "uncle"... then again...
so few women allow access to even these...
if fathers are not allowed access...
why should "uncles" be given access?
great! send in the psychiatric nurses!

i would sooner send in... death!
none of this supposed prescription of life...
is worth living... not under the feminine
mantra of the western world;
perhaps in Africa... but no here...
not, *******, now!