i write: pluto:

         \dm
arm
gvuest,
plito.

   and there's this great traction of readership
because people are discouraged from
paragraphs
and in writing punctuation is the closest
one gets to the idiosyncracy of brush strokes
in painting -

                     while no forests were burned
nor sands ground to make glass...

i think about geology and gynacology
and trying to refurbish my night to day
transition
i slept for 12h but had to snooze
for about 6h of those...

and upon waking i only had:
oh my dear of my dear of my Caroline...
and from the depth
there came an image of earth
whereby Jupiter consecrated himself
upon this orb
with the eye
and what became of earth?

a third of was a gigantic volcano...
a third of the earth was this landmass
of volcano:
this massive **** blister on the northern
hemisphere:

i doubt anyone will see this to
be a fathomable truth...

i sort of wish i was hallucinating:
but then night shifts are different to day shifts
and we are not allowed
(as a generation)
to relieve ourselves from the Holocaust
so there's no incentive to "cope"
with the revelation
                 there needs to be a more organic:
hubris...
mind over matter:
when once upon a time there were the Epicurus
types now there's the archetypical Batman
et al...

           but that vision was true:
how did water arrive on earth...
i could spend an eternity in the fabric of glass
and eye on venus, mars,
pluto... Uranus...
i could fathom the universe by sight alone
and feel no inclination to being displeased...
but that image from a dream resounds:

a third of the earth was occupied by
a heaving lung of God
a gigantic volcano...

fear is the mind killer... little fears: phobias...
and i am concerned with the second schism
of Islam:
there must be a 2nd schism of Islam
via the Turkic route:
there was the Iranian route now there
must be the Turkic route...
and a 2nd schism of Islam must come...
because there's just enough spice of tension
to allow it to happen...

bad language...
curse of the influencer...
  women in literature...
oh... i'll sniff out bad practices...
the sunday times cultural review...
sarah ditum:
PONIEMIECKIŁEB
(after the german 'ed)

          women in such positions:
because starting a Nobel prize streak with
AND and no full stop
does not excuse a Sarah from:
'here's the other option: it's the autumn'...
huh?!
the autumn? there's an autumn?
anything particular about this autumn of 2024
that's different from the autumn of 2023?
big ego ******* trip
i will ingest mushrooms should my
grandfather's ghost grip me with dementia...
until then i'll be your grammar ****:
i love the uniform...
makes me feel fuzzy
and... of the furry teeth i get when
i don't brush my teeth on strut...
well... chatter come some Beckett and none...

Jon Fosse i'm yet to invite into my life:
i'm thinking about how much is required
to be wasted for the concept
and project of humanity: to spurr the ignoble
cog in the machinery for the benefit of others
i'm tired of being someone for the benefit of others...

but then all my ordeals of best thoughts
will only reach a small percent of readership...
i wish now that i wish it i don't
wish to have the security of a Roald Dahl blanket
and no...
existentialism will come back again:
when all the potentials of female freedoms
become bland and there's
a need for bus drivers
and there's more need for the gnashing
of teeth and how else without
your original freedom will we experience
the freedoms of this phantom "elsewhere"...

such wealth, squandered...
such parody of the African making beats
and blah blah blemishes on what's written
without painting it, first...
      vowel slight tease of consonant
bonanza... none of it in Russia...
where the Africans have been excluded:
oh... but they can come to Siberia all
they want for their argument of melatonin
or whatever else makes them think or feel
superior in the amnesia of insomnia of
the north... with its perpetual night...

please! come freely! settle here!
maybe the environment will trickle down
and make you shy and become all
melancholic...
a sadness without a sadness that's just
environmental...
you get to adapt like a spider to the architecture...
of a web...
i wonder: would the spider even think
it plausible that an intricacy of forming
a spiderweb be ingeniously planted into:
do spiders think?

                       i'm lost on the tirade of being
jealous of female sexuality...
but i am lost on what comes after...
this need for settling down and finding a: schmuck...
a ******* like one might find a ferret of
a **** hair while having eating out
and sniffed all the glue of a ****...
tell me once more...

          whiff of blonde: we are only here by
rent... rich or poor...
it doesn't matter...
but while the rich absorb all that is potential
of this world...
the poor absorb all that is potential for this
world...
the difference is in that prepositional wording:
OF vs THIS...

              shame not enough English people speak
a second, third, tongue...
by now i have envisioned USA
to be: at least a bilingual powerhouse...
by now USA should be recognised as both
a similitude of English and Spanish...
maybe that's what bothers university educated
women, white, of America...
the appeal... of...

       a psychology degree a blah blah degree...
but can the ***** play the flute, the piano?
no... so she's best at arguing my point of view
rather than equilibrating it and keeping me
in check?
so there's no ******* argument boss *****...
thank god i only have one life
and i'm not god
and that god is malice and i don't need
to have a genetic investment argument
to pursue my thought beyond what
is already being enjoyed... by me! ha ha!