title - prune
body -or: for the prudent.  (once more, a 502 bad gateway hack)

i hate roses, literally abhor them... thorny clichés...
i mean, even Bon Jovi sang about them
in that song, bed of roses...
   'i want to lay you down in a bed of roses...
while i, sleep on a bed of nails!'
right... what about the thorns?!
unless we're talking about eating seedless grapes...
my parents have come back from two
weeks spent in Jamaica...
   am i jealous... i hate the heat...
the two worst weeks of my life were spent in
Kenya... apart from the macaques i'd feed
and fall asleep on the balcony in the night
while they called out: sentry calls in the trees...
watch for this serpent, that serpent...
n'ah... i don't mind... i like the cold...
it's February and i'm feeling very sad that winter
is about to leave my eyes, my heart...
the cold is still here... but... i'm already sad that
it's almost over...
oh hell... the insomnia is going to kick in soon...
sensual and temperamental...
the girls will start ******* and i'll think about:
salvaging something in a brothel...
they called at circa 10am: we're at Harold Wood...
we've bought fresh buns...
but i've been up since 8am... i've already eaten
to fried eggs with cheddar cheese...
i thought you said you were coming at noon?
oh... right... so my mother asked...
where are my flowers?
like i said: i was about to ******* to buy some:
you weren't supposed to be here till 2 hours from now...
what a windy day... i didn't feel like cycling...
i felt like getting the bus... and donning my baker boy's
cap... and sunglasses... and those pristine brown
boots that go beyond the ankle...
yeah... that's how i felt today...
- i hate roses... unless they're a shy pink or a full
flush of fuchsia that borders on purple...
but i hate roses... they **** me off...
beauty in the eye of the beholder...
as i hanged a mask they brought back...
while i started sorting out the washing of clothes i was
was going to have to make...
now i'll be thinking about making some
Carbonara pasta... apparently plenty of food shortages
in Jamaican resorts... they haven't eaten
anything decent in a while, or, rather...
they sort of missed my cooking...
mein gott... i walked into the supermarket and found
them... rainbow: chrysanthemums...
a palette ranging from white ones to yellow ones...
but the ones in between? Dalmatians of
purple, green, blue... red...
i told my mother: cleaned the fridge... ate plenty...
3 days straight on a mango curry...
don't worry...
met this girl... gave one girl a banana loaf...
gave another a banana loaf...
watched her get drunk on the wine i made...
i sort of felt **** trying to not tell her: which if course
i didn't... about how i've been on two dates with
her in her own house...
that she's a single mum...
that she slandered me... tried to get me fired...
but then, as i waited... she retracted her accusation...
but i still hope it's not too late...
i want to listen to that vinyl with her...
over another bottle of wine...
Wooden Shjips V... you know... the record
your manicurist / pedicurist liked when i put it on
while she did your nails and i was left
with the toy... the toddler... the little princess...
who poked my eye... pulled at my beard...
rubbed my nose...
i didn't tell her that... that girls at work are behaving
like silly school-girls...
it's too much agony for me to begin with...
i only entered the scene by telling her:
someone said you lied...
you have lied... i woke up at 6am and took a picture
of the sunrise... she hasn't replied since...
and... mein gott: she was so promising!
she was always so nice to everyone...
she was imbued with so much self-esteem...
she looked great, she took great diligence in keeping
her house clean...
the hour before she tried to stall me:
because she was nervous yet i nonetheless ignored
her text over those stomach cramps...
she was burning scented candles in the house...
she was expecting me...
and i was willing to overlook her initial faux pas...
but if she's going to double down
and treat me like ****...
   well then... i can still blow off steam in the brothel...
i'm sort of used to that sort of *******...
but at least no one will be grieving...
all these plans i had are nothing but
sand scattered in / by the wind...
useful love-up fool that i can sometimes becomes...
thank god i know it only lasts so much...
i can return to my safeguard... my stone's worth
of a heart...  at least that's one part of me
that has an exoskeleton... the heart...
and i'm no longer interested in her past
trivialities... she can sell me all the attention she's getting
from... what? past boyfriends that threatened
her physically and her son?
that they all snorted coca-cola? and i don't,
nor ever have?
i helped my parents un-pack... they slept off their jet-lag...
i'm back on the grounds of being
the dutiful son... neither of them are going
to end up in a nursing home... fat chance of that...
we Eastern folk have our ways...
- if she would just simply own up to the slander,
that i've waited and only said something
once her son's friendship with the competing mum's lie
was put at jeopardy...
i already said: i'm going to play Pontius Pilate
in this matter... i'm washing my hands from
what you've created... i'm the hurt party...
but if you're going to keep ignoring your own making...
sorry... no... and it's so, oh so: disappointing...
i expected so much more, i invested so much
of my remnants of a cognitive narrative
into this girl... and even now... she can't allow herself
to owning her transgressions...
well... that's modern women for you...
best you entertain an hour with a *******
to get your footing...
after an hour with a ******* everything
starts to make sense...
i heal by touch... i speak by touch...
non-verbal communicative cues...
you can't exactly say half as much to a psychiatrist...
i'm just disappointed... but i'm also used to it...
modern femininity is an ugly beast...
by comparison a Hydra or a Chimera or a Cerberus
appear to be almost... tameable...
pet-worthy... but the modern woman?
from what's coming: it's the same new-old per usual
ugliness... they have truly become
Gorgons... Medusa's and the Graeae....
     ugly: stinking creatures of the bog...
i don't care how pretty they pretend to look...
and they are pretty... their moral skeleton makes them out
to be merely: jellyfish...
ugly... ugly... ugly...
better start appreciating the beauty of horses...
of bonsai tigers... of trees...
sunsets and clouds... the moon: for one...
at least he tames the mind when all moods
darken beyond the trust for the solace of
the night...
and here's me... oh i wish i could love a woman...
but they're undeserving of any attention...
and i'm not the one to bring out my whip and
iron clad hand...
no... nein... niet! nie!
i'm just going to pander myself...
even today... while i was walking with that bouquet
of rainbow chrysanthemums through
the shopping gallery...
i felt like: Terminator 2...
       great! now feel this way! eerie eyes of women...
only 2 days after Valentine's Day...
you didn't get any flowers?       good!
******* *****... i'll treat my mother better, then...
i'll treat a ******* like she's my girlfriend!
good! now *******, crawl back into that *******
you call your own life!
stew! ferment in your toxic "unaccountability"!
but remember this much:
you, made, me! i am the end result
of your ****-up feminism!