you want a ring of jade:
my irises are green:
you want to pluck an eye
from the socket and become
your pupil...
Edie... dearest:
you never dated an artist...
have you? haven't i?!
i didn't ask...
but now that i am:
i'm asking for you to stomach
sinking the Titanic
and be o.k. with it...
please think of your daughter:
please don't have me in
your life just because
you are sexually frustrated...
i'm thinking about fatherhood
and archetypes:
seminal: in that i'm thinking
of fatherhood and the elements
like the curiosity parallel
of the elements and the senses...
that verbiage that will come
later: your censorship...
            but please do remind me:
why there's this biologically real:
impasse of the span between us...
am i to be more relevant than
i already am?
maybe i should think about
being a ***** donor or what?
how much you want to hurt
me i will not be the one
pacified into screaming: o father
and then getting crucified!
might as well consider
Judas and suicide!
      because that was the easy way out...
get crucified for what?!
for what?! for what?!
******* idiot...       i told him:
but not alone! alone he thought
it would be done... the macabre of
demigod borrowing off of Greek
mythological tasting immortality;
i don't like Christ however much
i wish...the baron of the buckle...
all come here to live and live a life
of failure:
with the shredding allure of circumstance
of makeshift momentary scrutiny
of success...        blah blah.

i wish it was love...
but...
it's just: it's just:
really: really:
good
cis-
formative ***...
i'm adamant on
that part...
for people to have
a ***-life devoid
of life itself:
an escapism that's
***...
it's just ***-catharsis...
thank you
oh god no god no:
thank you fate, mystery,
fortune...
that good *** exists
and i don't have to
*******
thank you antithesis
of advertisement
and *******...
let my fingers spell out
the scent of dill
and parsley.

alternating in thinking: this would be an underlying motif of my life on Kauai, this domesticated fuel of feuds... and it's seeping into my digestion like it's a cognition: i have, started, to think about thinking as byproduct of digestion... maybe i just like how i don't bother to rhyme sentences... for the purpose of cute soundbites... maybe it's time to rhyme concepts: thinking and digesting... maybe they are very much aligned... hmm?

sonic hangover meets a moral hangover:
or rather: what's leftover from the sonic
and the visual hangover of doing
7... that's 7 of the 8: 0.875
5/6 = 0.833...
   3/4 = 0.75:

funny how fractions oscillate around
0
and become the ****** numbers...
fractions assume a whole: a one...
while decimals dismiss one
and begin with 0
a fraction is 3/4 of 1
while that's also true of 0.75...

   just saying... just saying...
today is the 23rd of August
but the 22nd of August was spectacular:
i ate the fruit...
i was the body-fermenting
a digestion of thought
and i did spend the entire day lying
in bed
and divulging in psychology lectures
worrying about my spine
stinking of rot and **** and not that
i was ****** or rotting
but i might as well have been:

i ate the fruit and i didn't feel sin:
i just felt: shame...
i was naked and trying to incubate
my genitals by folding my legs
and almost pushing my genitals
into my bellybutton:
let that image sink in:
it's an imitation of the serpent eating itself
for the... purpose...
no... longevity... yes: the temporal plane...
spatially: well:
i experience this strange assemblence
(assemble: assembling ambiance of
semblance - assemblance...
the quality of something not yet
designated to be imitated or understood)
of gravity without vectors of Newtonian
explanations...
like a second advent of Copernicus...
vertigo while lying in bed:
quiet an experience...

the nightguard is a gimmick:
i'm not that much into boxing matches:
parlor of the shakes in Muhammad Parkinson's Ali...
sorry: but i'll wait my turn for what's
to come....

is Kauai supposed to be my St Helena?
is Kauai supposed to be that?
it sure as **** and hell above it feels like that:
now comes the thinking about it...

Taylor didn't have to sing about it:
but, being the Grand Witch... she did conjure up:
she did invite the serpent:
of the eras tour i did like
the dark sexuality of Taylor the ***** witch Taylor
and subliminal or not:
she did ask for the serpent to come...
little did she know:
the serpent the tongue of the dragon:
but the dragon wants to become a bear
and disregard the monkey...
money monkey money monkey...
all just dangling in the open
in the air: concentrated into an arena!
ah... i was just aghast with so much
air and... this meteor leftover where
a cult could be born...

the theonyms... the study of YHWH
has brought be beyond any measure of how
language is to be proper processed:
i can't see the potential in Allah...
i just can't:
there's the Latin assemble of YHWH
graphemes... diphthong: Æ
       YÆHWÆH

                       just saying: Adam of Yah
and the Eve of Weh...
you can't even say the name because you
have to write the name and think
about atoms and letters and vowels are +
while consonants are -
since...
vowels can exist by themselves
while consonants need to be supported
by vowels:
a be cee dee e ef gee H i jay kay
el em en zee queer

where is that video i was watching about
queer theory:
it was fascinating:
traumatizing children...
queer is the antithesis of what homosexuality
looks like when normalized by society
i think i'm queer in that William Burroughs' sense
of...
homosexuality at a Taylor Swift concert...
well: working with Muslim men:
some virgins...
and them slobbering all about Jannah...
funny how no bomb exploded
how i was able to tame the frustrations
of being a male ****** Muslim...
so i had to do what...
any bear in the vicinity of:

my mind is a fishbowl and my ego
a goldfish...
my mind is a fishbowl and my ego
a goldfish...

but she did invoke the serpent
in that segment where she was all BAD BLOOD
like: no no, it wasn't a subtle concern for
getting sexually poisoned...
weird: how can people be so
irresponsible concerning ***...
******* on toilet seats
for others to late imagine
parasites in ***** crawling up one's
buttocks to later make
maggot acne indentations on the face
like the moon is protector of the earth
and moon is man and woman is earth:

forget Venus and Mars:
men are from the moon and women are:
here... men are from the moon
and women are of the earth...

so i'm eating this apple and i'm thinking:
maybe i can get some ******* idiot
to pretend to be a young Socrates
and speed up the process
and design a metaphor...
wine... bread...          applause! applause!
and i know that it will be my turn
to be born and die...
eh... once should suit me just fine:
i'm a productive know-it-all
so i'll get busy regardless of the sane,
mortal, allowance: by a woman:
to architecture a child... into...
something workable...
all my deviant vices some call evil will
come to the fore...
they will be a playground for voyeurism...
i don't mind:
if i can turn SIN into SHAME...
i will have a workaround...

now...            to turn SIN into SHAME...

of course i wanted to explore the victimhood mentality:
ha ha... funny... no -ism escapism,
red riding -hood like the sound of tuning an Oud:
oh wood ah woo! hehe...
   so i took the shift on... Monday...
like i was gang *****:
but i wasn't:
the night guard lover knows i talk and walk
in my sleep: i am a sleepwalker...
but those chips on my teeth?
oh... i didn't do these when sleeping...
i chipped off my teeth when i was wild
and awake...
you missed the bottom ones:
this was my wedding gift to death:
she wanted bone so i was like:
haven't broken a bone in my body
you want bone into your cauldron?
**** me... em em... right...
well, you want a bit of my chew?
so i clenched my jaw so hard
that i saw no sclera and no iris in my eyes
just that darkening whirlpool of pupil...
like a shark...
and the abyss just yawned saying:
you've reached the bottomless envy...
you can forgive yourself
as long as you eat of the fruit of shame
and tame sin...
so i did... i think: by the way: i don't think...
i just experience the afterthought
of what the semblance of man to animal
has become... via science...
because religion wouldn't allow
that mirror to stand...

too much ******* schematic obstructions:
or punctuation... name it what the hell you want...
new mysticism will try to actually
condense science...
there's no name for it
since the original mysticism was
something to do with congesting literacy
and the knowledge, proficiency of a language:
now that language is known
and deviating into... something...
abstract is a quote?

               Taylor did summon a serpent...
good girl still doing good but at the bottom
so open about being of a certain age:
millennial:
not *** and the City not
                     Bridget Jones... but still a red riding
hood: witch...
        who is...         is who?
as what?        how is that?
                                 writing songs, drinking wine,
can't you just leave those cats alone?!
cat?                   hey!      fern!
nice kitty... nice houseplant... stay stay...
go go!
                     i don't even know why
i have cats in my house...
my life would be so much simpler if i didn't
have them...
outlandish: they're not even utilized for anything:
i made sure there were no mice in
the house
and even if there were these creatures
are like horses left to pasture
without me having to ride them into battle...
can't exactly turn a cat into an armchair
or use it to cut vegetables...

so in  bed all day... contemplating SHAME...
why? well i had a great day of scribble-productivity
and... yeah...
my mother caught me on the off-load of
drinking and smoking wobbling in the kitchen
and it must be such a shame
to have a mother
and a father
it must be shameful to have such people...
oh but i known Baron Envy
and how children are raised these days
with at least one missing...
              but that was worse than:
i don't drink during the day... sparingly...
if i have a great idea and want to concentrate on writing
then yeah: i will drink...
otherwise i'm just vanilla sensible...
and it was unlike sleeping with someone
who tells you upon waking:
oh... your grind your teeth... you talk in your sleep:
well! i'm not a painter!
i need an unconscious outlet for the art
i conjure when conscious: writing should make you
talk in your sleep and not dream... right?!
but mother, dearest, caught me while i was
semi-sleepwalking...
why did she want to see me in my most vulnerable
creative self:
my most creative self is also when i'm
the most self-destructive...
i have reached the nihilistic zenith of drinking
and writing as a form of escapism... which is not:
hasn't been properly tested...
as far as i known there's no impediment of
third-party associations...
         that's why the internet exists and that's why
it has become so unnerving for my paranoia of
others: **** 'em...
         that i can... just...
justify my ambition of how networking crux...
it's not hacking...
but a close association to it...
             if i were desperate to make any money
from my verbiage...
if i were... ha ha...                 oh if i were...
i wouldn't write this...
with so much sadistic pleasure - and i write this:
with as much sadistic pleasure as
is necessary.

p.s. i wasn't sexually harassed...
but you put yourself in a scenario with so many
young females...
a lunatic asylum, makeshift...
the only equivalence of confiding in sexuality
is only going to be a male...
not that that is a symptom of ******
frustration: but a ****** dominance...
no... prominence...
i allowed Jason to eat my ear...
it almost felt poetic: even my friend Alexander,
the painter... dropped a bomb
when i was off duty drinking at a pub
and this guy with a long-board: not a skateboard:
a long board... crossbows longbows etc.
YOU'RE THE THING, AREN'T YOU?

am i the poet-bouncer?
**** me... i've heard of the sage-warrior...
maybe this is equivalent...
truly: if i was in power? yeah?
i would ban the consumption of alcohol
at football matches...
if it is, supposedly: such a beautiful game...
why spike it with alcohol?
if football is the equivalent to ballet:
don't ******* drink when watching it!
get to appreciate the intricacies of the sport...
otherwise it's not helping you
if you require the sport to drink
and vent off personalized detailing of
unsolvable drama in your life!
otherwise just ban the sport...
          clearly there's a very different clientele
when it comes to appreciating
rugby or cricket...

jeez... a Roman Catholic living in England
is like a death-wish...
the ******* were so adamant
about being the inheritors of Rome that
unlike any other Europeans:
they didn't allow the insurgence of diacritical
markers onto the original letters...

e.g. SHarpen šARPEN... the Turks were closer
to the point of excavating
a borrowing of identity: the identity of posterity...
right now there is no identity for the sake
of posterity...
                                     like year 0
()                              all over again...
and i know )i( (know)
                                   i'm not an imitable crux...
so i'll just let words be words
and the rest will resolve itself,
queer gay or straight; whatever.

god didn't pull an Jonah on me:
**** me, no...
like reliving my own life
acquiring bilingualism:
go, to the deep end
of the pool...
now learn to swim! ******!
i heard the choir
descend
then a voice like a great wind...
eye of YHWH and
eye of boy !D?N.... O - ?
I = !
                   i ask... dare i?
not much the Hebrew
via Portugal... "ease"...
says why? says who says what?!
question marker of ego
is retractive....
not reflective not reflexive:
re-tractive...
         you savvy this dimension of
explaining... **** and nothing?!

my mother,
my my...              mother:
clearly by the tokens
i've collected:
i'm the superficial eulogist
scribble:
time and death and all
that's to pass: self-evidently...

but...

you catch me at 3am
drunken, high:
giddy from creating something
a something that's
symphony...
you corner me:
did i tell you about the Rainbow
Brigadiers of what's ***
unlike?

when i cry the tears become
rivers into my ears
now i have an ant
crawling on my ear
i once had a mosquito:
**** at my neck...
i'm not Christ: i'm just the prefix
of anti-,

the night is dark and
i feel like feeding a symbiosis...
this ant...
crawling around my ear and neck:
yes! i'm feeding it music:
just like the shirt-of-a-****
and ****
i have in my ****
a worm to **** out...
but at least i found the concept of
individualism of ants
and now she it he is sleeping
finding a cuddly spot of pillow of flesh
no spiderweb of architecture...
now when i enter
heaven i will heave a sigh of relief
rather than disappointment:
because i was allowed back in
into Heavean:
i left Hell in the guise of the superiority
of Beelzebub:
i have Matthew typing my thoughts down:
oh: you don't know Matthew?
that's like another lineage of a Jesus...

but why would mother seek me out
at 3am... yes: drinking, yes, smoking:
but not wasting my time:
i did something creatively...
worms in my eyes i can see quiet plain-of-fact...
until i get knocked out:
cobblestone antics?
but woman: even if mother:
she despises not being mentioned:
Tyrant mother:
why do you want to see me
in a state of fermentation of intellect?
atheist that you are...
and i rigid Catholic, like father:
and this new beast of ***
this pacifying the already pacified Pacific...
am i the Napoleon not
for St Helena
but instead Kauai?

ant and spider and worm...
i need to take a ****...
a **** in my **** is like the tongue
in my mouth:
i don't, terribly, need it...
insects have a concept of sleep:
like wow: we have the concept
of the sun with sunglasses...
i've spent a day in hell:
i was the spouse of Pride and the daughter
of Shame...
one day in bed imitating Martin:
i want to be off this carousel of...
i don't even know what i owe to know...
i don't even know what i owe to know!

but at 3am:
and i'm off my rockers and nuts
and she keeps tracking me
as this loser homeless issue:
no no: no issue:
Nero the Captain Comedian
and Emperor:
i'm figuring out where to stab myself...
in the neck...
in the abdomen
in the piercing of armor akin to Kafka...
past the lungs and into the heart...

to give birth to death...
that's what the masculine intention is \
auto-suggestive off of: and of:
i am required to give birth to death...

this **** in my **** like the tongue in
my mouth...
this **** in my **** like the tongue in
my mouth...

sexually harassed at a Taylor Swift concert...
this ******* propaganda:
politically correct:
i took it like a bear:
i was not a monkey back then...
sly on the slide: and the summer stone...
begot suntans...

but why see me at my most destructive-constructive:
don't you know YHWH aligned himself
with Odin...
two are: eyes...
because all this Gabriela topic of the angel
who spoke to Muhammad about
Allah... who never, or ever, spoke since...
but Gabriel only spoke to Mary,
the marrying type... or typo...

        why is Catholicism so alien to the American
mind: let alone intellect... hmm?
and why linger until 3am
to watch me play the dutiful ogre
listening while she displays her...
it's 3am and i'm in-between Flaubert and
Stendhal...

                  so now i will suppose
being a convert...
oh but maybe the Poles are the French of
the Slavs...
but then that leaves a widened opening
for the authority of the Russians...
and i know:
the Germans don't listen to the French
or the English...
vice versus: compliment to the rubric of:
the English don't listen to the French
or the Germans... etc.

i feel obligated to feel ashamed whenever
in Poland and Russia is a topic...
i am a king in pawns...
the queen obligates the bishops and the rooks...
the king is pawn...
the queen... it's all be clarified from
abstract to simplicity to abstract-simplification:
to known to man: phenomenology...

now to **** out that tongue
from my ***...               a welcome... experience.

if apple is knowledge
then fig is figuring
pear is remembering
memory is not remembering
therefore is: not pear
but is... GOATS!
yeah... gloating goats of
blah b'ah!
        what fruit for what:
eat the fruit of:
******* desert nomad metaphors...
but what of the Polynesian
nomads and their anti-sand
metaphors: ******* were buying
time
i see a newer Israel i see Atlantis rise
while all those reoccupied with
lands sink into the despair of Hades
and advertisements!
what fruit to what compartment of
psychology...
i could have starved:
and figured out:
there was a inbuilt ontology
of telling right from wrong...
it was... inbuilt...
i don't require a devil to tell me
this schizophrenic analogy of being wrong...
the spider does the spiders' rope
the fly clings to cattle dung...
i don't need this fungus of hallucination...
don't... *******... disturb me...
whatever the ******* are...
seriously... don't... don't!
we were given authentic,
universal increments of know-how...
we were spiders and we were ghosts:
but these *** starved nomads from Israel and Arabia
these weirdos just messed up at least 4000 years
of our history... when we lived in pattern
of symbiosis for longer than that...
******* Jews ******* Arabs....
******* Schizophrenic Jugglers...
retards ****** jargon...
no... they are... ******* cousin-fiddlers...
they are ******...
this is the advent of the Rescue
                                   of the Neanderthal smile...
for all the beauty of Islam:
now comes the ugliness:
Christianity? i never associated with that...
being given the treatment of the Crusades
via the Prussians non converts and Lithuanians...
i could never convert...
the Russians sooner than me...
no mate...
          
but my people experienced the northern crusades
after Barbarossa's death in the pickle barrel
unable to swim or dreaming
of the anti-horse
with the invention of the bicycle!
come, the ****: on!
have some leverage! learn punctuation!

i'm not Christian:
i'm not even Roman Catholic:
there was a past where a region of Europe
was adamant about being pagan...
a Poland and a Lithuania..
oops...
        oh sorry: no oops... *******.

who are you, dear, dear otherwise me, rereading and in auto-correct mode: believe me: contain your autonomy of being "constipated" with this much authority of being anonymous... i thank you for that: dearest, reader...

the genius of
woman
is that it operates
within
the confines
of solipsism.

favorite color?
really?!
is there? a racism of
that sort?
initially drawn
to red: bus driver...
now green...
iris:
poet, philosopher:
blah blah:
no better than
a journalist...

c
a
s
c
a
d
e
              savvy?!

but i believe Batman is a pauper...
not a *******
re-ignited... but that's not really:
reality: is it... so... ha ha...

toy of cards: have 'em.. let's play!