what was i going to write?! sometimes i have this labyrinth in my head, but then i keep forgetting that i have one to walk through...

well, at least i know that i'm not *******
pornographic actresses,
you can't be a woman and fake pleasure
with a paranoid "p.",
i have this knack of sniffing acting out...
esp. during ****** *******...

why am i still writing about ***?
call it Picasso's red / blue period before he designated
himself / rediscovered himself as
the godfather of cubism...

a Cezanne exhibition is on at the Tate Modern...
****... and there's a Lucian Freud exhibition
happening at the National Gallery...
coin flip? n'ah... i'll go to both, alone,
because it never feels like a date with a girl
when you're admiring fine art: even though:
don't ask: i hate Lucian Freud...

it's raining and it's the night veiling my scope
of vision... must seem like a weekend over
at Dubai for some women:
well... England, soggy, nighttime:
this is paradise for me...
  this is my heaven... this is my twisting
upper-lip my whirlwind my: half of halves...
i will not give up the night so easily,
not when it rains...

Mmmm: 'oses... 'ohammad...
half baked or half as mad?
                   by now, does it matter?
sure... i've bought lingerie for Khedra...
pretty girlish pink and white stockings...
unprotected ***... fine... fine...
but what if i want to "slobber"?
ugh... she gave me a line of ******* to sniff:
strange drug... it's a placebo...
i stopped drinking coffee just to prove a point:
nicotine is my go to alternative
when it comes to replacing caffeine...
but *******?
i might as well be asking a pigeon
to bite off a seagull's leg... seriously...

but something felt different...
i already ****** that girl 14 years younger than me:
i don't esp. like ******* the idea
of ******* corpses...
but no surprises...
at least i'm not ******* pornographic movie
actresses... i ought to know whether
the women are lying are not...
thank god she tried, pretended,
and got away with playing a corpse...
a mouse gives out more reciprocating onomatopoeia
messaging than this, "clever" looking "thing"
gave out...

i tried doing a 69'er with Khedra once...
ugh... it wasn't the *******...
it was the anti-contraceptive pills...
oral *** was bad...
i had pharmaceutical dust all over my tongue
and supposed nose...
like eating a double infused grapefruit
with a double infused grapefruit...
bitter as ****: and there was me remembering:
oral *** on a woman's **** leaves a man
licking his lips a day after...
i love performing oral *** on a woman...

it's not fair that she should debase herself
doing all the work prior...
i like performing oral *** on women...
i think i left my skull nearby a freshly licked ****
at one point...
indeed... i think i have...
i just pretend i'm  granddad without
any teeth but a tongue to slobber with...
my beard gets wet from all the dripping...
fair enough...

i can have unprotected *** with Khedra...
but... i can't eat out her ****...
conundrum!
with Mikaela i have to have protected ***...
but? i can became a slob
with the ****...
my nose dives in... my tongue imitates
a phallus... i'm giving her the double kissing
her mouth would otherwise require...
i love ***...
i need ***...

if both of us are giggling during it?
well... i must be doing something right...
because i know: i ******* know...
there's this pornographic veil akin to the iron curtain
struggling / suffocating "us"...
i know there is...

i bump my head on the mirror,
she bumps her head on the mirror...
but we're still laughing...
she tells me: ******* ******* her are too much
so i reduce it to the index...
next time we meet: and i hope it's tomorrow,
i don't think half an hour will be enough...
i think i'll need an hour with her...
i'll cry to the outer-limits of what's viably
in the realm of existence and utter:
this i wed, because this is what i had fun with!

69'er...
     i just want her fat *** to choke my face
into a... murk-around of crafting a Pistachio cream...
mein gott: performing oral *** on a woman
is so re-invigorating...
it's almost like being born-again!
she's clutching your hands one minute...
she's pulling your hair another...
you already ****** an actress... 14 year your junior...
you having *** with her was you
having *** with a corpse... literally... mute games...
but when you come across a coupled:
*** is fun... *** is all about having fun...
the game shifts...

she'll learn... once she has had enough terrible
partners...

but the way she indicated: upon parting i implored
to kiss her cheek... nope!
she took out her index and pointed at her forehead:
kiss me here, upon parting...
which i did... but i need a second taste of that ****!
it's like waking up with a history you haven't inherited:
or don't wish to have...

Christianity didn't give us this!
philosophy or technology or, whatever!
you want to fight words with images and metaphors?!
you want to fight blood with wine and
fight body with bread?!
you want to?
yeah? let's go!

happy are those, who come, to, my, supper!
well... back in Dickensian times...
oysters? they weren't party food...
certainly not food for the elites, certainly not
aphrodisiac nibbles...
oysters used to be the food of the poor...
ergo?

hmm...

i woke up today... i was supposed to go clubbing
in central London last night...
i was only ever going to make to the brothel...
why? i was going to perform oral *** on a *******
and hear her onomatopoeia
of gloat...
    from mute through to gloat...
i like it when a woman moans with pleasure...
it sort of reminds me of why / how a cow moos
when she's being milked...
same ****? for sure... different cover...

another shift tomorrow: at least i know one
is not on anti-contraceptive pills...
i'll eat that **** out before i perform any ******* intrusion...
i'll burry my nose and hide my heard
in that...

the best profanity of the Christian Church
yet to be envisioned...
this is my body: an oyster... the **** of *******
eaten raw... "rhetorical practice"...
this is my "blood": a bottle of wine-strength
cider, i.e. "blood": more like my... ****!
oyster-**** and cider-****!

what? you want imagery to weigh more concrete
on the demand for the worth of words
while at the same time demeaning the worth
of words with either imagery or metaphor?
best the best poets are natural opponents of
actors and journalists!

i still can't stop thinking about performing oral
*** on a woman...
it's like speaking 50+ over ******* tongues!
like i don't understand that some, think,
it's worthwhile:
to be a male and competing with women
for expressed sexuality...

well, d'uh: women in harems have more ***...
the sly ******* amongst us forgave to forget...
i **** carelessly... because i like to ****...
i like to drink too... but i also like to ****...
i have limited interests, when it comes to interests...
which makes it perfect for me
to chose the most treasured of interests to
be the most prized! even though, they're not...
not with the wrong type of woman...
esp. a woman much younger than you...

i prefer monkeys, pigeons... crows...
dogs, lions, bears, cats, tigers...
camels, horses... i prefer... dim-wits and dumb-*****...
rain's ******* fine...

what?!

i'm a ****-sucker! i love, *******, ****!
i used to love eating oyster....
this is "my" body: i.e. hers' oyster...
the **** that be her...
what blood?
you're getting my ****! you're not getting my
blood!
and my "blood" is? a bottle of cider...
that's my "blood", i.e. my ****...
and that body? that's her ****... which i slobbered
all over...
happy? you crucified, *****?!

this is what happens when words lose
their intended value...
bread is my flesh?
wine is my blood? i too can play the same game...
i already played it:
the flesh? a *****'s ****... an oyster...
no blood...
you'll be drinking my **** for the next 1000 years...
i.e. a bottle of cider!

just because your father was a *******
carpenter... and my father a roofer...
what, the, ****, does, that, make, you,
you would be ******* incarnate yoyo?!
you were a carpenter, but i was also a roofer!

i'll stop writing about *** when i stop having
*** regularly... not until then....
hmm... she reminds me of someone...
Jasmine... Black...
i'm surprised by how much allure
excess flab has on me...
there's so much "geography" to master
concerning a woman's body...
and you never quiet know if you're getting it right...
well... after ******* a 14 year old junior mute
stiff as a corpse... not willing to kiss...
i don't think i'm buying lies
with those moans and groans...

yeah: i'll stop writing about *** the moment
i stop having *** so frequently / on a regular basis...
i'm meditating in continuum
rather than in situ...
there's a clear distinction...
Diwali came only a few nights before
Guy Fawkes' Night...
there is, a clear distinction...
i.e. between meditation in continuum
and meditation in situ...