i can tell you where the best place to listen to Bob Dylan is...
on a train... travelling from St. Petersburg to
Moscow... no other place like it... no other rendition
of Bob Dylan doing Bob(by) Dylan(d)...

just before starting my last shift there was
this girl that spotted me...
i had to go through about 3 security loopholes...
and there she stood...
bleached blonde? maybe... who cares...
although i'd love an auburn mingling with ginger
type...
my guess was: not from around here:
maybe just maybe: Bulgarian...

but she said those magical words: oh... i recognise
him... he can go through...
**** me... it almost felt like being back
in the schoolyard...
                she recognised me ergo:
she took a fancy to me prior this time and from
the first time she saw me...
back to basics... thank god i was only fished by
one social media company: when...
oh when... it felt sort of respectable...
being in university and what not... club(e) exclusive(h)...

of all the girls i ******... this one feels special...
she looks on par with my looks...
i'm not a "10" or an "7"...
more bruises from bicycle accidents: to "replace"
rather impose the aversion of having tattoos:
but still a full smile's worth of teeth:
ah... the dashing look...
         no no... this feels different...
she has this girlfriend appeal...
             men are pedantic sometimes...
some men are pedantic sometimes, some times...
she recognised me...
hell... she's not a stunner...
sure... **** her up a little and she's probably
an "8"... whatever the hell this entire scale
means...
  
       we weren't flirting... no...
but we're talking about working with several companies
and we're talking... circa... a workforce of
around 2000 people... plus... + that's big PLUS...
it varies...
oh... i recognise you...
   **** me... Hunt for the Red October...
i'm about to be sunk...
         i'm on the girl's radar...
                   with scars on face and arm i look
all the more dashing...

and she truly is... this pretty Jane...
this mundane yet i want to grow old with you
pretty Jane...
she's the sort of pretty that made me have
a flashback of making my first mix-tape
for my first girlfriend...
   when people used to make mix-tapes...
when people used to get influenced
by books like Nick Hornby's High Fidelity...

oh this girl is burning out my eyes out with
a memory of her face...
i've made a full ****** into listening
one of my favourite songs from youth...
Reef's: give me your love...
           i'm always going to be spontaneously
in love...
   not love: "love" i.e. via contracts and marriage
rituals... flimsy love... love straight out
of a brothel... funny sort of love...
the sort of love good girls scream and finger
themselves over when it comes
to music idols / icons akin to Elvis...
                        that sort of love...

               i love the idea of love...
i like the euphoria of the unknown forever unknown...
and i think of of those suppose Muslim
"martyrs": could these... colts...
command an authority of 72 virgins?
could they?
   i've had trouble with two prostitutes...
sure... when was ******* me off
while the other pretended i was a toddler
******* on her *******...

always in 3rd person... it's fun to watch...
but when you're engrossed in it...
do you really want one girl shoving her ******
into your face while the other is doing:
whatever it is she's going...
i need an exoskeleton for that to work...

i pride and prey on eyes... i need eye-contact...
i'm sort of Norman Bates-y... within the confines
of that regard...
i like snuggling... i like to scratch my fingertips
on bricks... on roughage prior to touching
flesh... licking oysters before gulping them
down, whole...
lemon juice or champagne?!
perhaps both...

                           might it even matter?!
i will but i won't text... what's her name
Khedra... are you... upset with me?!
no... i'll wait...
to hell with hallucinogenic drugs...
i just need more women...
let's do this menial work...
   let me earn money for prostitutes
to earn the money to spend...
i'm already sitting on money...
                i'm not bothered...
i don't need to play some investor's game...
i'll just toy with my beard like i'm
able to play the violin...
come come...

                    that's why i'm thinking about
the Muslim martyrs... could they...
really be... more than... dog-walkers anonymous?
it's pretty hard to feel a hard-on
when over-excited while being in the company
of two... esp. if one is overtly-talkative...
talk during *** is such a turn-off...
who needs "god" when you can
have the satan-onomatopoeia?

                            i really: don't: want: to: know!
talking during *** is like talking
when eating... eating with your mouth open...
it ruins the "plotline"...
it's a bad habit... it's something the pornographic
industry...
               "implanted"?...
   incorporated... all that who's your daddy /
      please don't make "mummy" cwy... is that:
even, Velsh?! eh?!

talk during *** is bothersome:
it's a turn-off!
      i need hungry eyes...
             i need... teddy-bears and innocence coupled
with a transcendence into adulthood
of a... repertoire of missing ******-angst...
when naked i do not require "god" as my witness...
esp. when my nakedness implies
there's another nakedness involved...

to tease at life and be unable to testify its fullness...
its completeness...
what a silly life to live... what a life
of jurisprudence... what an iron maiden
of the thesaurus...
   what a life of a lawyer...
what becomes true hurt comes from the core!
from (the) essence...
i too find language pliable...
  to my advantage: or no advantage... per se...

by now? there's no argument no counter-argument...
there's nothing beside the flow of time...
enough has happened...
and enough will happen still
for me to shrink into nothing
because the world has won...
the affairs of the world were always going
to overshadow my own prized assets
of "individuality"... like the hell that mattered...

moneta esse moneta:
     lapis esse lapis...
                        money is essentially money...
a stone is essentially a stone...
elephants and walnuts...
   n'est ce pas?!
    
   cura... facio ego?!
                do i care?!
                              let me think and blink...
cogitare et coniveo...
              
i'm so terrible at translating...
it's almost like i don't care what third party
is involved...
whether Russian, German, Greek or Ancient Latin...
because?! ha ha: i don't...
best mistakes: for others to pick up on...

vivo tractus... the tractat of life...
         principium vita et vita finis....
        
i own my "rights"...
          
apologies are excluded..
                     paenitemus.. sunt...

risprudence excusatus...
the difficulty of "managing" lingo...
             death, dearest,  mother...
i'll just wait..... i'll wait...
life is a pristine ****-show
to begin with...
i like waiting...
                    i very much...
like.. waiting... i'm a sadist at best...
i like... waiting... time = patience...
i like the comfort of pain being returned...
having waited... i like waiting...
no no.... you have no governance
over this...
i said i like waiting... this is an old...
disagreement...
        the kites are flying...
haven't you heard?!
         no?! better aim at giving into
investing into hearing aids!

i'll ******* scrutinise you to death!
i'll **** you like a ******* rampant hog!
**** with me... i'll... ha ha!
i'll explode! savvy??
     no... yoi still think i'm "faking"...

like watching pretty girls walking
on stilts rather than stilletos...
i like watching young girls walking with
Pakistani rapists...
because England... what England?!
matters?!
to hell with your racial safety net
****! *******!

i don't even care about these wonen!
i'm assured by the Russian "queens":
no... ****... you're not coming close!
i'll ******* eat your eat your head off!
you heard me, ****! i'll bite your head off!
or the Russians will!
either they will: or i will...
playground of Darwinism!

nice was nice...
until... now i'm siding with the Russians!
to hell with western sensibilities!
bite a ****'s head off!