oh man, it really doesn't help...
however many marathons you walk...
how many 50 mile roundabouts you ride,
how much might swim...
being *** starved...
mein gott!
             i never knew i had these muscles...
my body is aching...
i feel like i've been punched in the jaw
on repeat for about an hour:
chewing was problematic today...
i should **** more often,
which implies: i'll have to earn more...
no, no dating... **** that bolloicks...
i'm here for the transparency...
and esp. with women from cultures
that respect the status of men...
where women are women
and men are men...
    but it feels good... she likes being slapped
on the *** while we're performing *******...
while she tells me to look into the mirror
to catch ou a ******...
sure, i know the "syndrome":
most guys put it down on paper, as the narrator...
but i imagine most women want to be ******
by two guys while having a third *******
while she contorts her face...
well... fourth... apparently a woman has  avenues
of access points...
she is really into the three-dimensional
dynamics...
mind you... tomorrow my toy is coming...
i still hope she mimics me... clucks when i cluck...
pokes my nose... pulls my beard...
what music will i put on... what toys
will i provide her...
i might get the guitar out and play her...
Silverchair's.... Shade...
perhaps Eric Clapton's Layla... really slowly...
or Black Sabbath's Solitude...
my new favourite woman... barely 1 year old...
lucky me...
get in early... i've already taught her some
that come prior to the first word...
the katakana... she didn't say papa... dada...
mama... she mimicked my cluck...
my pluck... i stole her...
                            she's my toy... my little Frankenstein...
whenever i see her... i'm going to mould her
in my own image...
there's no argument... the argument has already
been settled... she's reciprocating to me...

oh man... i'm aching... i had to stretch for an hour
having discovered these new muscles
from having performed ***...
why is my jaw hurting though?
i didn't punch myself... was i kissing Khedra too much?
i must have... and while all my coworkers
go back home to spouses and what not...
i haunt the streets and go into brothels...
i have children on a loan...
         eh... too much of a good thing: i can imagine
it can be tedious... you need a diet...
fasting... last time i ******... 4 months ago?

brilliant when you're starving...
because there are always other things to focus on...
but when it happens?
oh... it's spectacular...
            my jaw is still hurting... she's asking for tips...
sure... to slobber and oyster of a **** i'll pay extra...
after the 1st of March... i'll be at it, once more...
i just can't see when i remember
her face contorting like it did... tongue waggling...
primordial...
        ancient human being...
              not that it felt weird... i just felt out of place
with the general pedestrian mentality
of keeping an English sensibility of: coordinating
practices trans-professional...
you get me?

when you see someone in their essence...
she's waggling her tongue like a demon...
  during *******... you jump in with a slobber of lips
and kiss her...
              all praise on her wanting to give me
unprotected ***...
can't go wrong with that... my phallus and *******
still feels tingling like a ******... even now...

dating... ha! my ***... what's the point of this...
western cultural fetish?
       why would i want to... "date" someone?
why not bypass eating the **** food and just getting
busy with a decent amount of ****?!
i don't see the point... perhaps my "logic" is
off the radar... perhaps cultural differences...
sorry... i'm not buying it...
  like i'm not buying: paying for *** but also paying for
lies... or the trickle of the first ******* i snorted:
that... maybe that's why i feel like i've been punched
in the jaw... several times... and not my me:
giving myself a black eye....
so i compared her to the first wife of Muhammad...
oh, you know, the literate woman, who wrote the first
Surahs of the Quruan...
my other tenet? Jesus... ADON SHEL YATOOSH..
you're saying a **** from hell can't see
a **** from hell? the one that displaced his
people for 200- or so... years?!
this is my demand for the third party of Islam...
even she said it: inshallah...
Adon Shel Yatoosh: Jesus...
      Led Zeppelin: no quarter...
believe me when i say: i don't be near being found
killing flies... but mosquitos?!
turning blood into wine... turning wine into blood...
probably hell's greatest asset... the crucified one...
a... son of the Elohim...
        i'm looking forward to a third branch
of Islam... spearheaded by the Turks...
forget the Arabs... the Persians... they're their
own people... i'm looking at the Turks...
where to start? with the prostitutes!
              where else? the *******, plumbers?!
n'ah... n'ah... you start with the dejected...
with the down-trodden...
but you start... because you: authentically give
a **** about them...
and i do... within the hierarchy of moral
authority... the women supposedly higher up...
single mums... with grievances...
domestic violence blah blahs... sorry...
no... put me in shackles with the prostitutes...
these women are not worth it...
i prefer the transparency of prostitutes...
at least among the Turkish ones
i can kiss their hands... open the door for them...
allow myself to excuse not having *******...
i can be a man among men...
while women can be women among women...
i can slap her *** while we're performing *******
***...
   i can bite her... i can pinch her...
get married? to what? i'm not even going to stress: who...
is it even going to be a person, or an asset loss?!

there needs to be a third branch of Islam...
i entrust te Turks to spearhead this incentive...
no... the Arabs have too much money and are
too debased... perverted...
the Persians are too... well... Persian...
but the Turks have for a long while been
tourists in the Balkans... so they know a little bit of
Europe... plus... they "thought" it necessary to acquire
the Latin script... so... plus plus...
and the best ******* barbers around...
barbers... this one ******* you leave to me...
she gave me her phone number...
she asked me, personally...
                   of course i'll be there... not over-worked...
sober... don't worry about me not climaxing...
i don't mind about climaxing...
i would truly mind... seriously mind:
what's up with this beard trim?!
what's up with this haircut?!
getting a ******* and having dog-fun and me not *******
is, what, somehow a priority?!
no... it's not...
i don't care... i just like your company...
i want to keep it...
i want to keep it forever...
why? because... you... you...
somehow matter for me...

           can't a man enjoy a woman's company
fo4 no clarifying reason other than
the reason for company in itself?!
  as long as she's not licking my face... i'm good..
she can create a telepathic oyster of a tongue...
waggling... imagery of a slur...
sure... she can get away with that: no licking
of the face... the dog can lick my ears...
i'll do the licking... i'll pay extra... for that oyster...
bouquet of a floral pattern of flesh of a ****...
i will... but i
***... great... esp. when you don't get enough
of it... esp. best when you pay for it!
paying for it sort of figures out all the middle
men of the dynamics...
what date? what cinema?
what food in a restaurant?
    do you really need Bolsheviks by now?!
eh? i thought the whole thing was about to implode,
then again: best to be wrong then everything
looks... sort of... noormal.