i've had this massive falling out with my father today,
he came back from work: roofing... but he's getting
old so he's not harrowed with production...
he's more into taking care of details... he's more a technician
than anything...
so we've been doing up the garden for the past
month or so... i did all the groundwork...
levelled the area for him to now fiddle about with
60 x 90cm? 30 x 90cm? whichever slabs...
right... so i made him this steak salad for lunch...
and i was readying myself to make dinner...
roast chicken, chips... asparagus and quickly poached
leftover pepper (from the lunch) -
then again: i poach vegetables quickly... all...
   i like to eat vegetables likes i might bite into roast
chicken bones... i like the crunch...
     so he took off his commuter clothes
        dressed himself pretty in his: i'm going into the garden
to do some work with the slabs... sure sure...
i stuff the chicken with some lemons
and address the ******* by feeling under the skin
and lodging knobs of butter underneath...
hell... the oven is warm... you have 40 minutes...
the chips (FWECH FWIES) came in 20 minutes
down the countdown...
  i take the chicken out: because it has to rest...
you have 10 minutes...
o.k. o.k. he replies like a Joe Pesci / Leo Getz
from Lethal Weapon... but not really...
               this is me reimagining "things"...
   i lose my temper come the 20 minute mark...
i start employing onomatopoeias
                   for the sound of hammer strikes in between
oath words akin to: kurva: which are... less oath words...
nothing blasphemous here... oaths! oaths!
**** **** **** this happened! to reiterate!
the excuse came back: i'm not coming
because i have wet cement...
          wet cement?! i have a pretty hot chicken
and pretty hot fries and pretty hot asparagus waiting!
what's cement?! ******* liquid nitrogen?!
we argued: of course we argued...
that's how we show our love for each other...
in the end i had to call my mother who is visiting
a dentist and her mother back in Poland
because her number 1 fell out while
biting into a bun... ha ha... not on bone:
but on a bun... teeth are funny...
              i must have had 3 dreams exclusively
about teeth... hey! Freud! why do i dream
about teeth?!
     metaphor my **** up your ******* sprinkled
*** you 19th century "ground-breaker"...

see... i'm a man that gets drunk from anger...
ebrius ex ira...
   i kept telling him: you want to eat ****?!
there's an aesthetic about eating something!
there's a ******* aesthetic...
i'm tall... 6ft2... but i have a very short temper...
my temper comes in at 5ft1...
those ******* hammer blows to the slabs
to level then: plonk plonk plonk...
i'm sitting there waiting as the chicken cools
and the chips get crispier...

alright fool! keep harrowing!
arbeit macht frei! ******* arbeit macht frei!

then he comes in and while about to move
the chicken from the baking tray
to the cutting boat he pounces at me with some
random comment... i spill the chicken juices
on the floor and start cleaning...
ooh... you're spreading it all over the kitchen...
like you ******* clean the house...
don't worry...

     i plate everything up and then he imagines himself
as: ooh... maybe i need more sand...
that's it... i SNAP...
    my mother has this mysterious Zodiac-narrative
in her head... she's a Pisces...
i'm a Taurus... my father is an Aries...
she usually says something along the lines of:
i'm the fishes swimming between two horned
men...
yeah... but it wasn't Aries that ***** Europa...
was it?!

i reiterated to him: you don't eat food
to stuff yourself... forget what Socrates said:
what did he say?
oh: some people eat to live...
while others eat to live...
no! you're not feral! you're no werewolf!
so he grabbed a slice of multi-oat... ****... what does
it matter... oats... rye... sunflower seed loaf
and a slice of cheese...
i had to call my mother in Poland because
by then my "cool" was completely lost...
talked to mother...
listen... he said i've been drinking...
"i'm supposedly drunk": SEPLENIE...
a term for: mixing vowels with consonants...
akin to slurring...
    
   listen... i just did three days solid...
this is my day off... i'm relaxing... some of my faculties
will follow up with me on: SLOW MODE...
but he doesn't get it... i feel exasperated:
this is my ultimate insult...
what's my ultimate insult?! you won't break bread
with me, i.e. you will not eat with me...
not ******* western secular restaurant *******...
i mean: sit next to me: Asian style...
eat with me... yes? no?!

so i call her and tell her this exasperated...
he comes back... with his *******: SAND...
and i tell him: mother called...
pet names?! they call each other beaks...
dziób... dziób dziób...
beaks of birds...

so when he came back with his *******: SAND...
i told him... mother just called..
call her back...
ah... the English double-face came back
out... we were arguing just 10 minutes ago...
but while talking to his woman:
my mother... all ******* butterflies and lilies!
no wonder i prefer prostitutes...
i couldn't keep a woman...
i remember this: it wasn't an itch...
this numbing ******* sensation of people
not familial to me using my things...
Nintendo console... that was a big
give-away... i sort of liked the limp-**** sensation
overpowering my entire body...
it wasn't an erectile dysfunction: i was only 8...
but something invisible was
nibbling at me... something communist-esque...

i can't pin-point it to any foreseeable detail
of interest for a spectator...
it's personal... it's truly personal...
it's not an itch... it's not a harrowing:
it's a oyster-numbing sensation...
i best associate with oysters being digested...
hey... that's the best i can do...
it's a feeling best associated with
oysters being digested...

     oysters dipped in acid...
of the stomach...
ha... i don't haffe an exoskeleton...
yet i keep hydrochloric acid contained in my gut!

point being: i had a little retrospective moment...
father said he was bullied when he was younger
because he was raised by a surrogate grandfather
and his father was drunk who used to lie about on
park benches...

no... that's not true: according to my maternal
grandfather... he was a drunk... for sure...
but when work was required: he worked...
ahem... ahem... let me clear my ******* throat:
M'AH BODY M'AH CHOICE... no?
don't you ******* throw dry foetuses at
me, woman! when you're not being a, woman!

also: my body... my choice!
         i'll drink in my spare time to excesses you
can't handle... and i will...
and then when i sober up i'll trickle the money
i've earned to the prostitutes...
because?!
i bring neither peace or war to this pact
of: we're peer pressured into a shared existence...
are we?
no!

           you want to know something...
i'm here for the lyrics of a King Crimson song...
i'm hardly coming with either sword
or a quill... i come with a question mark:
dot dot dot ? hello...

             i come with chaos...
i come with questions... i come with what's
worthy: and as man ought to know from the beginning:
there's only the question-worthiness that's
ever to be allowed... that i have to peer into
this democracy en masse... this... "democracy":
this water of man...
from ***** to the hollowing crowd...

quench! i strike myself to tease feeling bones
in my spirit: somewhat lost...
no war... no peace...
just the revolving circle of interests
and expertise!
                       can't we be satiated by simply that?!

learn my ancient tongue of nacht and nothing!
believe me how belittling some if not most
of you have become... herded little creatures
with thoughts as if screams!
with thoughts as if screams!
           with dreams nothing more than
reinterpretations of drowning!
with dreams nothing more than
reinterpretations of drowning!
                     dearest labour of the god existent
or non-existent... save me from these
silenced lambs!