*** has become so unhealthy of late
or late of almost forever
that when an exclusive act of man
corresponding to woman
and woman correlating to man
becomes the beyond of tiresome
almost horror lackey
    this toy of cherry testicles
and **** i can't imagine melons
i see clouds and cushions
and i see a super-massive octopus head
and splinter....
i see a **** i see a surf slurp of an oyster...
i see a kaleidescope of dreamy eyes
i see a squirting senstation
i see so much **** that unfucks all the *******
in Picasso's cubism...
because that's my wife being
more than all the ******* could never
establish...
i literally saw... so much *******
that unfucks all supposed *******
in Picasso's cubism that i can retaliate on
a reel: and no... western societal disinhibitions
and freedoms and subsequent
iron maiden underwear and whatever...
this ***** dodo maniacs of feminism eshew...
proud shrews...
       n'ah n'ah... women are gone solo so wong!
it's a wok and antler brrrr... breeze... ugh...
ugly ugly... ugly women!
or rather women without biological reality:
or narrative... like the worst Frankenstein:
they don't even want love!
at least that monster had some noble parrot
to paraphrase... these modern women
don't even know what love's eventual scrutiny entails!
female sequality is sterile
no wonder i misspell it: it's no longer sexuality:
it's a sequence of QX monstrosity genome
where once YX used to breed...
               Q replaced the Y and it's the designated plague...
the advent of the anaesthetic
and the prism of the circus of
anything being readily avaialble...
the sickness does not: repent;
no amount of psychoanalysis, days, weeks,
months or years later...
no amount of shifting the focus on ****
Germany either...
just this dulldrum grey reality: resurrected: forever.