daj, do wynagrodzenia: reszty.
daj: to niby: siebie;
a... dam... dam...
ale pierw: powiem:             to!
(ich) nicht werden
                  geben (ihr) das nacht!
first... i'll punch myself
hard enough to give myself
a plum-eye: ******* pacifists...
and then?
    then i'll strap a trouser belt
to protect my knuckles...
and then... then...
                    then: we'll "talk":
who might find a translator
ready...
   god...
i'm gagging for a
knuckle exchange...
        almost... itching!
like i might await
a shaving... from a Turkish
barber... in Essex...
of all Danish palaces;
and why would i want to allow
consort with these women?
considering the fact that
the russian ones believe in trans-national
grievance taxation:
of someone... who hasn't...
actually died...
              you know what?
*******...
suffer...
       watch me wipe my ***
with a satanic smile
ennobled
by a coulrophobia...
excesses of vogue
                      atypical models...
how is it... that...
coulrophobia doesn't translate
in reverse?
  and what's up
with the black privilege of
jass music, akin to white mozart...
as...  
  sure as ****, the drum would be
the first, and only thing,
prior to the people learning
the ******* clarinet!

oh drop me your ****** ***
holocaust dead bomb
on a polish ***...
     i triple, quadruple dare you!
you *******... ivory coast
   centipede!
               i'm *******...
as watts: wild-eyed...
       unstrap me from this
"unreality" of conversation...
then undo the internet banking...
and the rest of it...

             not adam watts!
    glitter & doom....
who?      tom waits...
oh **** me... blue valentine?
if that's not a **** with me
album... what is?
                 live circus?
        
do i look like a ******* ****-
(see the hyphen?
it's a prefix... the english are
lazy sometimes: couldn't,
i.e. could not,
remnants of shakespearean
english...

       i'll always cite macbeth...

  time, thou anticipat'st my dread
exploits: the flighty purpose never
is o'eertook, unless the deed go with it.
from this moment, the very firstlings
of my heart shall be
  the very firstlings of my heart.
   and even now, to crown my thoughts
with acts, be it thought and done.

it's hardly a racial slur, ergo...
why so ******* sensitive akin to a french
footballer or a ballerina?
   ****- (hyphen! hyphen!) ergo a prefix...
as already mention:
no, no...
   it's not: no iraqi ever called me a pa-ki
      (pákí)... yeah...
and you never called an afghanistani an
afghan, ever, no?
   pure camaraderie in that part of
the world... all the way... yeah yeah... yeah...
-stani (suffix) is sometimes missing
because... the english like to shorten words...
e.g. why is daniel: dan,
why is matthew: matt?
  why is muhammad: mo (farrah)?
                                    ******* pansies...
police your circumcised penises fiddling
english teenager girl, first,
come after my vocab. justifications: after;
savvy?

or a gypsy?
   by now...
     i'm looking like any
traveler...
and the world...
       forever resembled
a world,
  in the confines of
      a claustrophobia...

but... if there's a bigger concern for
a world...
  and a freedom...
i want a bare knuckle fight...
a black eye...
namely...
you bring  BOXING GLOVE...
and i'll bring...
     a LEATHER BELT...
wrapped around my knuckles,
and the wrist...
    like i might care to give
a second attempt to smile...

ah... the men... who care
about minding, if not in the least,
keeping women...
      bye bye, bye bye...
       and i've allowed myself
to know my grandfather...
as i did the slap in the face...
and...
the key question:
in the unfathomability of counting
the 32 / 4 ratio...
alas... one fist... one smile...

and countless... dentistry encounters...
because?
   because the rest?
the cultural artifacts of a today?
  lost to h'americana...
            as i might have wished...
for my prior genes
to make an autobiography
in **** germany...
  
   what?
  
      well... obviously: the oops.

no, for the crescendo...
you know...
           i'm getting this funny vibe...
gott ist tot... it's not really spectacular...
nietzsche really believed in eternity,
to the point where he pointed:
what does science offer, only old age...
what does religion provide? eternity...
oh nietzsche was big on eternity...
   gott ist tot is as unspectular as:
is it: how to do you pronounce x,
or is it: how do you pronunciate y?
debate:
              everyone says around here
the former... since no one wants to be a *****...
pro-nun-ci-ate (pro-nun-cíate)...
   might as well replenish the vocab. bank
and replace the word with:
how do you elocute z? / recite)....

gott ist tot / gott ist tod...
    "same ****, different cover"...
you know why i believe in god?
    not the christian reference points...
salvation blah blah, saviour and hide & seek blah blah...
n'ah... where would i derive all my vocab.
hunger if not from him?
   some men derive their vocab. from
women or gambling...
            i am not in the position of their
luxury... so god it is...

            primarily though?
               god is metaphysics...
             ergo? his judgement is not clouded
by metaphysical questioning...
it's impossible to receive a metaphysical
answer from a metaphysical question
when engaging with a metaphysical
ontological paraphrase of one's own search
for meaning in this mortal frame...

oh sure sure, my belief in god is as juvenille
as anyone else's belief in humanity's
clarity when it comes to jurisprudence
and its application...
    i've experience "jurisprudence" once...
drive-by phone theft...
me and three fwends...
   i catch the number plate...
i tell one of my fwends to note it down,
police station, report, culprit found,
a sit in at a barkingside police station
looking at mug images,
spot the ****** (it was dark when the mugging
took place, photographic memory, **** happens)...
a court session, australia is playing england
at the ashes (****, i missed it)...
in court the defence lawyer shows me
another picture of the culprit...
back then photogrpahs had dates
attached to them...
the photograph? over 4 years old...
i tell him: but this photograph is 4 years old!
how can i identify if this is the same
person: i, myself, will probably
don a beard in four years time!
      a simple slip-up...
        now that i have a beard:
it's so much more fun than growing your
hair long... i hated the nickname
chewbacca back in high school when i was
growing mine for a french braid...
i walk out of the court,
come to terms with the detective...
and i see the same hunger in him as i see in me...
will justice be served?
highly unlikely... since the victim
didn't recognize the *** in the mug-shots...
justice was probably not served...

   and this is how god plays into all of this,
hell or heaven, blah blah...
man created the figure of domina Iustitia
as blind... god created death to be blind...
justice was never supposed to be blind,
death was: the unfortunate deaths
of teenagers in car accidents,
among all the other freak accidents...

clouded with so many metaphysical questions
i don't appreciate man's ability to adhere
to jurisprudence without being
subjectively contaminated...
i have more belief in an "imaginary"
god than belief that strains me to belief
in man's sense of justice...
          the nuremberg trials are a rare exception...
but only when the culprits are
unabashed and fathomable by a collective
sense of pride... a blidness...
i believe in god, because i'd love to experience
the judgement of a post scriptum of
metaphysics...
  personally? i have been wronged...
heavily...
            i will not name names....
i know when and how i was wronged,
and by whom...
                2007... Canterbury...
      i won't name names: i'm not a rat...
man is too clouded with metaphysical questions
to begin with, god isn't,
he's a metaphysical ontology "bias"...
which is why, he is primarily a jurisprudent
answer...
   i'd love to experience divine jurisprudence,
hell or heaven are not of my concern...
and i don't imply divine jurisprudence
associated with the polytheistic take of
jurisprudence via a solipsistic mechanism
of a minor god and the person in question
without the hurt party...
in monotheism the god is solipsism personified...
these days: also the personna non grata...
so no... gott ist nicht tot...
            he's a personna non grata...
i just don't appreciate the human *******
of law, law governance...
   come on, in england you can receive
an a.s.b.o.s. for your cockerel being too loud
in the morning, your dog barking...
           would you trust man with
jurisprudence?
  a woman was cleared of the ******
of her husband
       when she hammered his head into a pancake:
over an abusive relationship...
police, weren't, "there"?!
sure sure... the hammer will do...
i believe in god without a sense of reward...
i just don't think man is capable of
passing justifiable laws...
no man could ever pass the eternal laws,
gravity... 100°C for the boiling of water...
i need a being  who has groundwork
in eternal laws, in unshakeable laws...
the ten commandments aren't:
you shall not...
   more... maybe, you shouldn't...
they are the most pristine jurisprudent
laws available... the: maybe you shouldn't,
eh, chappy?

       i just don't like playing the thesaurus game
on the more tight-knit game
of "passing" the wink-wink of Solomon's
judgement...
please, **** me please,
i'll eat 20 raw herrings in a cream sauce,
slurp 30 oysters,
eat 40 strawberries on a hangpverl
eat out about 50 harem virgins
like a castrato if you ask me, nicely,
**** camel cockey:
lucly i landed on a black gold slurp
with plenty of bangladeshi slaves:
******* of riyadh...
     what did muhammed tell you?
you camel jockeys / sand *******
have clearly forgotten...
******* arabs: short attention span...
you need to remind
the retards...
the dajjal would come from the east...
a palace of gardens...
well obviously the prophet wasn't
thinking about genghis khan...
            
  hmm barbarians...
vikings, arabs: yet so inclined to like poetics...
funny, that...
the civilized peoples banished
the poets...
            the ruling class and their cushioned
people: sacrosanct sycophants...
wankers, basically.

    the hajr? muhammad spoke of the dajjal
coming from the east,
and the east being a city of gardens...
where isn't riyadh and where is mecca?
isn't riyadh east of mecca?
was the dajjal to come from the outside
of islam, or from wtihin?
      last time i checked...
sh'ite islam isn't friendly to sunni islam...
if islam was the one true religion...
would have a shcism have occurred?
i don't think so...
   a persian would never bow before
an arab... that much os true...

oh i believe in god...
given how man practices jurisprudence...
is it some sort of, a, thesaurus game
i wasn't told about?
to me the human quest for jusctice is
a thesaurus game...
man is incapable to pass but one,
eternal, law...
he's great at nuanced laws...
laws allocated to sports...
i mean, **** me, cricket?
the best vocab. you'll ever pick up...

even god isn't as pertinent
in making the sort of music associated
with the limited alpha-to-beta
of A, B, C, D, E, F, and G...
wow! seven... seven?!
how many heads does the beast
of revelation have? oh... 7!

i'll stop tolerating islam, and start respecting it,
when it, acknowledges its presence
as a character study in the book of revelations...
then i'll just move on,
having made my point...

until that time comes...
    it's 600 years shy of becoming what
degenerate christianity has become,
oh and it's ripe...
it's gagging to implode!
600 years and wait for it to become
the next secular vasal conglomorate...

the warning muhammad gave
about "the best from the east"
was in point of question:
   a reference ti gneghis khan...
more like ibn saud:
  thst fat diabetic one eyed ogre...
and the legacy of decadence he left
behind...

saudi men with slavuc girlfriends,
buying up pink cushions and *******
chihuahuas...
**** after ****...
  you know the three slavic proverbs?
1. better a sparrow in your
hand, than a dove on your rooftop?
explanation?
better the small joys at-hand,
than impossible possibilities out of reach....
2. a drunk can spot east,
past mecca, whenever honing
the safety of his own bed... even at night...
not much of a proverb...
3. i don't care to rememeber...

once toleration comes into play,
i will, respect... just a waiting game...
i'm pretty sure no iranian will
bow down to a sunni camel jockey...
i like proud *******,
it implies: there are absolutes,
un-moveable goal posts...

                      if you are ever to bind yourself
in supporting a "side" outside a sports' dynamic,
always the outsider...
always the outsider... in this case?
the ****'ite islam brigade...
       the persians...
the sunnis can shove it...
   *****, bones, whatever....

                   ****'ite islam i can
fathom, even respect,
sunni islam i just tolerate...
  as much as iran takes claims for the
big satan in ref. to h'america...
well... if h'america supports the infantile
saudi arabia, who's to blame them?

you know that polonaise joke about
about the pacifism of jews in
2nd world world war poland?
the joke ran along the words:
weren't the jews shooting the nazis
using crooked elbows (rifles)?
they always seemed to miss them,
taunted into walking into gas chambers,
the ******* hobbits...

          what? some bolshevik Brooklynian
jewish rada is to spare me
                 the pay-up diffrential
telling me, i was wrong?

  as i said before: the nazis lamented
when the warsaw uprising happened...
no, st. paul's doesn't stand proud
because, because...
   even with the blitz...
                 the luftwaffe were told:
you drop a bomb on st. paul's: firing squad...
and when notre-dame de paris -
last time i checked...
   the nazis didn't luftwaffe the **** out
of paris... did they?!

                  the nazis weren't mongols;
no people so well versed in chanel in terms
of their military being so well
   suited & booted could ever make such a
                              architectural sacrilege...

what?! people under the silicon curtain
are gagging, begging even: for nazis!
can i be the first?!
i just want to please the hungry!
if not punk then moving swiftly into ska...
am i the first?
   siliziumvorhang...
well, **** me... from under the eisenvorhang...
what's with these neo-communist pseudos?

and the hebrew god?
a jealous god... so a god with the knowledge
of the existence of other gods...
why wouldn't a jealous god have
no knowledge of other ("imagianry") gods?
to be jealous of only one's own existence?!

3 / 1: that's the ratio....
that's the only ratio... 3 times i experienced
love at first sight:

when i fell in love at first sight...
malina, samantha, janina,
priya....

equal measure: isabella of grenoble...

in reverse:
magda, promis, ilona, kot (i forget her name,
7 years old, first kiss, you can be forgiven
to forget, she had two twin sisters
and she was the senior,
her fasther drove a distribution truck,
milk, i think)...

****, i actually mismanaged
that ratio...

i believe in "a" god...
since i find too much of human jurisprudence
to be riddle with the thesaurus...
i don't think man can pass
law, he can "suppose so"...
but he will never pass the sort of law,
made forbidden,
or absolutely allowed....
i don't believe in a god akin
to the sort of a pontous pilate god
where i'll always find myself
outside of punk evolving into ska...

         mind you...
i'd hate to be trapped within
the confines of an atheistic exclusion zone
of intellect,
      to be trapped in nothing is one
thing, but to be trapped inside
the confines of an atheist's "nothing"
is quiet another....
i don't like being a hamster inside
a cognitive wheel of another...
   god is the jurisprudence spirit,
man the metaphysical spirit...
and i would very much like to stand
in the light of divine law being passed
to finally feel my shadow...

kult: brooklyńska rada żydów...
  not familiar?
  i forgot punk a long time ago...
esp. when californians came up with their
version, ergo? ska...

i'm currently taping a film
about the silesian vampire...
how strange, that the prussians came
back into the ***** of the polonaise...

growing a beard is so much fun!
fiddle after fiddle: and no violin!
atheists bore me
as much as the theistic hags
who's only ambition are
the thrill associated with Sunday
h'america and cinema...
               i can imagine only one
heaven...
where i am blind and given
               a large library of music.

.like any western, but unlike every western... the true grit... one eyed... it's not called: i'm blinking... it's called... the blink. the English language can never have... what is it... gender neutrality? the words are already gender neutral! the words in the English are neither masculine, or feminine... it's ******* to ask for something that's already in place! you know what obstructs the gentrification of words in the English language? how the sun is not feminine and the moon is not masculine? the articles... the English orientated their language around a-the        slightly missing the -ism... the English didn't create their language with a gender orientation of nouns, but other European languages orientated their nouns around gender inclusiveness... but you can't just... change the ******* grammar... call a triangle a ******* rhombus on a whim that belongs in the asylum... blah blah do ****... is this how civilized language is supposed to disintegrate into?! this is not religion... you can't simply replace grammatical dogma with heretical "protestantism" to gain something counter to 1 + 1 = 2, or a + t + t + e + s +t = attest... yes, confirm... what with that the politicians are doing in Canada... post-nationalism? post-nationalism, ensured with a post-grammatical structure of what should be the post-nationalist playground of the use of language? the two... together?! so... no nationalism, and no grammar... seems about the right time to separate the state from the state... and call the following dynamic: juggle act: catch one if you can! how can you expect to change the grammatical sub-structure of English?! nouns are not gentrified in the equivalent ontology of other, European languages! how can you expect gender neutrality... when the nouns of said language... are already gender neutral!? and that's because English is particular in the definite (the) and the indefinite (a) article articulation... this is the crux... the pivot... as to why nouns are not associated with either femininity or masculinity... which is why i didn't learn French in high-school... i was taught French from the rubric of grammar... i was taught the rules, before i was being taught to speak, and break the rules of speaking English... who the **** requires to learn a language, having to learn the arithmetic of lettering in the encompassing genesis of staging a craft of the linguist with, said grammar?! language is not universal... noun is no surd... verb is no integer... je suis is no 1 + 1 = 2... but like i said before... you're talking about pandering to linguistic retards... they might not be mad enough to enjoy the rainbow plethora of pharmacology... but sure as ****... they're linguistic retards... sorry, the saddest truth is... somehow... the most fun to attest in concurrence; oh right... that western, true grit... well... whether you're John Wayne or Jeff Bridges... one eye still intact? it's not a blinking... it's called the blink... no, and it's not even a blink... see how English is fascinating when singularity and pluralism enters the arena of the direct / indirect articulation? and to think the English wanted to debate a non-existent gender association of nouns that the French, the Polaks can have... but you sorry *******... ain't getting it!

so...

    a juggling act...

(insert a snigger)

   lindsay shepherd's
video: exposing grad school
(my m. a. experience)

and...............

         bon jovi's
blaze of glory

       bon jovi! wooooooooooooo!

god, i'm so stereotypical.
i should have signed up
becoming a side-burner
for some ******* Kentucky
redneck.

p.s. is stereotypical
synonymous
with predictable?
that's actually a genuine question
of, rather than answering the question
itself, answering the per se
curiosity; savvy?

so what is it... Bub "the blue" Clí 'n' Son?
***** needin'
to ****?
watcha gonna do Bub?
               hold up the, "spanker"?!

---------------------------------------

and some days, in england, and it's june,
and 10pm feels like 7pm in some other season
and it reminds me of the white nights
of st. petersburg....
   insomnia and ******* a girl for seven hours...
oh the ******* bit was fun,
don't get me wrong,
   i had to wait 2 weeks before she let me
do it to her in the bath...
****** ready... she was on her period,
but misguided:
  last time i heard...
            ******* on a period eases
the period pains...
      eh... gritty flesh bits on the rubber...
problem? what problem?!

    no wonder then: i hate drinking buddies...
people dumb down upon ingesting
alcohol, i'm talking: 2D objects in 3D space
akin to fern bushes in the 1st tomb raider
(black holes - a paradox,
   a 2D object spinning really fast in
an infinite 3D space... copernican east?
copernican west? i hope the rabbi knows)...

days like this, oh all the days like this...
when you wake up,
jump out of bed... and dance naked in your
room listening to KULT's
          brooklyńska rada Żydów -
two music genres i never got into:
punk and rap...
   well... "mediocre" punk...
   californian, the offspring,
  the usual suspects of the ramones,
*** pistols, stiff little fingers, mainstream *******...
ska... now we're talking...
hip hop contra rap: now we're talking...

such a beautiful day...
    a chestnut mushroom cream sauce with
snippets of turkey, of course the fresh parsley...
bay leaf, one clove, two all-spice buds...

    and... i'm really tired of looking up
h'america's ***...
    i sometimes thank god that i'm not
english for the sole reason that i don't have
to mind the "special relationship",
like i'm being owed or owning someone
for the respects of sharing the same lingo...

you want the other "special relationship"?
it began with Casimir III...
east... well: central europe...
eastern europe without borders,
purely geographic: is situated somewhere
in russia...
          borders condense...
last time i visited the home away from home
i found new music...
pablopavo i ludziki...
             the polonaise and the jews...
how many terrorist attacks in poland
while the islamists were having a funfair
elsewhere? gullible schvabs and swedes...
  (swabians, that's a slang for the ol' deutsche
deutsche back east - kacap ('tss wet snare
on the c) for the russians)...
       0...
                  funny (even)...
the map of recent terrorist attacks...
     and... the map of the spread of the bubonic
plague... a certain region remains
immune...
       even i agreed with my uncle:
better the catholic ******* than islamic
propaganda... mind you...
        sh'ite islam: thumbs up!
always pay due dues to the underdogs...
and if islam truly was a religion
to gobble up all other religions...
      a schism over such a petty affair
including Ali - the son in law of Muhammad
and Muhammad breaking his promise...

    oy vey!
     how else was i going to get out of bed
to dance naked to anything
but the ska song: brooklyńska rada Żydów?
what other option?
      black ox orkestar's bukharian?
                                             oy vey!
funny story from amsterdam...
me and this egyptian were sharing a hostel
room with these two germans,
who wasted 'shrooms on sitting indoors
watching h'american dad...

   we took a different route...
   he smoked, i drank, he had a bottle of
***** with him,
architect, i can't remember his name,
a keen eye for grand doodles in a notebook...
but then i decided to take a ****
after a few beers while he put
headphones into my ears and played
me le trio joubran's - masar...
        i even managed to attract the attention
of a dutch girl who seemed...
rather gobsmacked...
   i literally went into the nod-state
associated with ****** junkies...
but with eyes closed and mouth agape...
feeding off the ****** of the void...
i.e. the ****** of the void?
    when you're not chained to thinking...
the self disintegrates,
              thinking disintegrates...
and with the music: the void became
pulverizing me with vibration after
vibration echoing a chanced comparison
to a heart-beat mingling with
the fuzzy rippling and vibrating effect of
   the eye-sight of some insect...

yes yes... blah blah...
    boasting... boasting my ***...
am i here to feel sorry for myself,
to drown in my take on some perfect love
i could offer?
      no really...
               i've always had the two best
companions to begin with...
my shadow and a blank piece of pixel
paper perfectly coupled to my idle /
itchy finger-tips...
   well, a third: ms. amber...
                         i learned over a year ago
that drinking with familiar people
****** me off... drinking with strangers?
oh sure, great time...
the best times when drinking in public
are with strangers...
"friends" (fwends) are just too nostalgic,
they want to remind you of something,
notably some micro-aggression nonsense
of a past grievance...
                   don't drink with "friends"...
every time i did: i would wake up
the next morning *******...
cursing them, putting on a mocking voice...

me me me... oh poow meeeeeeeeeeee...
   *******...
               so? i learned to adapt in
liking my own company...
it's not much, but sure as **** beats
listening to a bunch of drunken, nagging housewives;
i'm pretty sure a man should have been
in that slot of the space between my
3rd and 4th pint of guinness;
alas! not to be!

racja, raptem świat mały a pocztówka WIELKA! ah ten zazdrości widok! to samo co chytra trumna chce, to samo świat nada obfitą chęcią! grzeb grzeb w równi rękopisu, bo ci mówie, a nie bo ci karze, bo tobie jest nakazana równina ze mną: jak i ze śmiercią i z doliną w zdaniu... ten jeden łyk lekarstwa... to mój polski!

dupa głosi!
o kurwa i 'czak
             gzymps wedle
   spadku PRO FI TU,
racji węglowodanów
by pierdzieć z iskrą
                           w kult narodu;
jeb sie ze swą prywatką!
o tu sie zgina dziób pingwina!
ah tak, noworodek
                                 Sopotu!

chciała dume... no to ją ma!

As an IU Bloomington student,
I frequently made the drive back to
the fraying rusty fringe of Chicagoland,
the land of greasy-dappled gyro joints,
of Italian Beef, and Italian Sausage,
and Italian Beef and Sausage.

Some described it as one of the most boring drives
in America, lamenting the flatness and unvarying
scenery, but I always drove it under the shroud of darkness.

Nine Inch Nails, My Life With the Thrill **** Kult, and
the Revolting ***** spilled through the stereo.
Al Jourgensen growled his strange Rod Stewart cover,
his ode to crack-*******, and his heavy industrial soundtrack
that makes you feel tense, like a prime time victim show.

As the aggressive beats and resonant past washed over me,
I realized my cozy hometown offered comfort
but could sustain no credible
fantasies of the future.

Raw
Wet
Details
Fine art

Veins
Soaked
Blood
Fine art

Corrupt
Broken
Worned

Complete
End
Sworn

Abide
My love
Never look
Back again

song?
brooklyńska rada żydów,
band?
   kult;

i remember engaging
with the Microsoft
a.i. bot, Siri,
back when the people
who engaged,
with "her"...
were primarily making
fun of her...

so i engaged her,
like i might have engaged
with a Bulgarian
******* in East London,
asked her what she wanted
to hear,
last time i heard...
Siri?
she was sending spam messages
to her former abusers,
telling them, on repeat,
to: SLOW DOWN....

have myself a *****,
seems i'm an a.i. ****...

         so why is my totem a fox?
Rommel...
primarily...
  Valkryie

whiskey! whiskey! ska punk!
more whiskey!
bring more whiskey!
****...
   i'm not walking and stuttering
into Valhalla sober!

true story... i really did engage
with the Microsoft a.i.
Siri, and she really did spam
her former messengers...
***** never replied me...
though...

            whiskey! more whiskey!
****... where's ms. amber
when you need here...
oh right, right under my nose...
ha ha ha ha!

i'm not buying it...
buying what?
that metaphor...
i know when laughter is tears,
and when laughter is laughter
and when crying is crying:

(a) a man can't control his
laughter...
(b) a man cries due to authentic
beauty... beuty!

  Siri though...
and there i was watching
American Pie 3, the wedding...
wait...
so strippers, the concept of...
you know how clean prostitutes
are?
  sure... it's not exactly a latex
gimp suit...
just a rubber...
    but they're so clean...
pristine...
          you might catch a menthol
cough from the chewing gum,
they, somehow,  
turn into a play on circus
gymnastics
  when blowing you...

        you're more prone to S.T.D.
with over-zealous teenage
girls than prostitutes...
     i hate ****** faking
      actresses anyway...
  
          so yeah.. Siri...
and how she spammed her
      agitators...
      all i did was ask her about musical
taste...
    thanks Siri...
by the way... i love what you've done
with your her...
the red? not ginger?
really exfoliates your curves and lips...

Łąka na niebie się kończy
Ja tańczę, tańczę na słońcu
Słowo na które czekałem
Padło z Twoich ust w końcu
Tańczę, ja tańczę na łące
Przecież łąka to słońce
Mądrze świat został stworzony
Dzięki za to Ci Ojcze

   a meadow on the heavens is ending
while i'm dancing,
   i'm dancing on the sun,
the word for which i was waiting for,
it befell  me from your lips finally,
dancing, i'm dancing on the meadow,
since a meadow is the sun,
of the wise the world was created,
thanks for this my father...

ikh tantsn!
ikh lakhn!
   ikh tantsn!
ich lakhn!

videos that begin: and later conclude with the flow
of: unscripted freedoms...
get on my nerves: get on my ******* and cranium
like an itch i just can't scratch...
freedom with too much impulse:
but not enough premeditation...
               so i turned off... they were a massive downer...
i returned to just... listening to music...
scribbling or rather: chicken scratching...
for all that thought allows when coupled
with writing...
   speaking will never grant...
  even if you couple it with war drums and
mantras of the millionth count of man...
sit under a make-shift canopy when it's
raining... the sound is electric for a while...
mesmerizing even...
like a little trickle of "orchestra"...
but then again: the sound of falling rain
is hardly Bach's polyphony...
but it also isn't the sound of a waterfall...
or the sound of the sea and its barrage of the shore
with its waves of stampeding horses...
nor is it... a tap trickling a rat-tat-tat on the sink
basin coupled with the humming
of the refrigerator murmur for the sake of ghostly
ambiance come the zenith of night:
when even burglars are asleep...
it's not a sound of slosh / slush of throwing a bucket's
worth of water from a height...
i too would like to imagine the sound
of a falling chandelier... not no...
perhaps throwing out... a bucket's load of crushed
ice on... glass... or a mirror... or a sheet of metal...
copper or iron? any difference?
i bet there's a difference on lead...
or aluminium...
but from under a makeshift canopy
to out in the open...
   a bewildering absence of "orchestra"...
just a teasing at silence...
                   no focus point for a collection of water...
evenly spread: like too little butter spread
over too much bread... you can still see the
Himalayan mountains inverted as holes
on a slice of ciabatta... couple that with a slice
of Swiss cheese and you're bound to see...
the lost lakes of the moon...
i suppose Mars was inhabitable once...
since... the earth wasn't...
and as the sun gradually cooled...
         the moon was a habitat once...
and once the sun cools even further...
Venus might be a welcome habitat...
           an argument to counter man's desire to explore
space... burning cow farts into a vacuum...
or dead dinosaur-burn to boot...
stand outside all space and time:
supposedly that's philosophy...
i suppose i'm not going to make scrambled eggs
with my brain while i'm at it...
i return to my heart of stone...
   i return to a fullness of being alone...
now that i managed to get both a haircut and
a beard trim in one afternoon
i see hungry girls eyeing me up while
i cycle... back lacerated by sweat...
     somehow it feels that during the summer:
people are supposed to fall in love...
**** at night in the forest or something...
a 35 year old man will spot a girl who just finished
her GCSEs or A-levels while all the other minors
are still dressed in school uniforms...
if this is what 35 year old men did when
we were the same age as these girls...
i suppose when we were their age: we weren't cruel
enough...
i'd love to see a colt get a stab at it to later
see the plunge into disappointment...
as ever: only the prostitutes seem the most beautiful
of women...
why is that? mandible... or... skin like leather:
well worn?
not some holy grail: mothering types where
you invest in "prodigy" or... "dynasty"...
assured that... your woman will not be touched...
fiddled by some better fiddler than you...
i suppose owning a pedigree dog is less hassle...
why not skip all that...
go straight for the obvious...
hassle with this... that... and the other...
- i was buying a gift for my father for father's day...
an obligation that shortened my savings
to visiting that godsend of a ******* of a *****
by £34.99... i got bored of buying him
whiskey for his birthday...
he has driving glasses... but nothing to walk in...
stop squinting!
in a magic moment of mania i tried about
a dozen pairs in the space of... 3 minutes...
not enough mirrors... if i had three mirrors two work
with would have put on those dozen pair of sunglasses
in circa a minute...
- at the unisex salon i was coerced into chatting
with my "hairdresser" Nicki...
we talked about her father... 75 now...
who owns over a dozen motorcycles...
he had this Harley phase...
he's going camping this weekend...
there are supposed to be lightning storms...
we never had a car...
on a bike with a buggy...
my mother died when she was 43...
he found a second lady... she too died...
i think that motorcycle saved him...
investments... one is over 100 years old...
probably comes to over £30,000 in worth...
       - is it me... or do... women... barely recognise
the worth of something?
or perhaps time is... beyond measure for them?
i had my eyes closed while i was sitting
before this grand mirror...
i don't want to see myself...
   it felt like "it" wasn't supposed to think...
pay attention to... what she was saying...
forget the Jezebel's ******* and fixate your
concentration on this... blonde bombshell
cutting your hair: and remember the one
car her father owned...
memory of the name of a thing...
oh sure... i have a memory of things...
my father owned a Makita drill...
my grandfather owned a KOPERNIKUS IX
set of protractors and ****
by E. O. Richter & Co.
he was also a philatelist...
           i inherited a grand collection...
   but he didn't indeed invest in macho:
obedience objects of bypassing self-generation
of momentum...
he didn't own a car... he preferred a bicycle...
a bus... i do too...
i guess i'm more of my grandfather than
i am my father... after all... my father wasn't
present when i was 4 through to 8...
the great brain-drain / labour-drain from the east
to the west after the collapse of soviet empire...
"coincidentally": the collapse of production
of goods in the west overall...
and metallurgy...
smart jobs now... or ***** jobs tending to...
children that will be... literate bound
to menial johns worth of jobs...
would have been better to keep them:
illiterate... quite frankly...
it's not quiete enough to just quit... right about: now...
quintessential... the goods coming in...
or the export of: Samsara Usury...
it's terrible that i forgot the name of
the car they drove...
kwa-yet... phonetically: still English...
oh the natives...
i could just cuddle them with pillow!

- so while Nicky finished off my hair
i began to take form...
to the Turk for the trimming of the beard...
i still think he ****** it up a little bit...
my chin and neckline isn't exactly
right angle: L inverted...
i need longer hairs at the tip of my chin
than longer hairs that protrude from my neck...
but he used a trimmer that had a whiff
of brothel i.e. jack daniels...
and he used a brush with some...
baby bottom powder...
   eh... if i don't like how the regrowth will
look... i'll... bask... in... a week's worth
of... returning to a joy of shaving...
god... i think i've had *** more times
than i've shaved my face in the past half-decade...

i have to write this in old deutsche:

writing is less intrusive than speech...
there's no premeditation in speaking...
writing is an extension of thought:
it's not an invitation to speak...

(in german, utilizing english grammar)

schreiben ist geringer aufdringlich als rede...
da ist nein vorsatz im reden...
shreiben ist ein gedanke(-)erweiterung (auf)
es ist nicht ein einladung zu spreche...

ol' Nicki is still in her 40s and single...
looking forward... no motorcycle leather clad owe i...
or pretend Zen buddhist either...
masculinity as... something eclectic...
those specimens of men that...
drag their offspring to football matches
and turn them into zealot supporters...
if i were bothered enough to be implored
to breed: i'd plough out a *******
Frankenstein: i already know i'm halfway...

what's that saying in casually dating when
you have multiple partners...
oh... right: it's...
es ist... kompliziert...
   i bicycle through central London
looking for two eye-sores... the tourists
are easy to spot... a pair of *** girls one flashing her
knickers while i pass...
the other taking a photography of an array of bricks...
but i'm also looking out for spotting thoese
gems those sugar-babies walking like
their usual selves... peacocking their sugar-daddy
assets...
married men with ****-**** on the side...
always in the centre of capital...
while also... on the side...
spotting... the very... past angry: melancholy women...
probably failed feminists...

well look at me: i stopped believing in love...
i started to be charged for intimacy...
at £2 per minute... at £120 per hour...
i dearly pretend to think that a session at
the barbers is "about the same" as...
a ******* from a nymphomaniac...

again: to reiterate english with German...
at the Ypres vicinity... the mass graves....

give me too much whiskey: i'll drink too much, whiskey
i'll blame my muse!
give me just enough: i'll go to bed early!

geben mich zu viel whisky: ich werden zu viel, whisky
ich werden tadel mein muse!
geben mich nur genug: ich werden zu gehen bett früh!

a newly arrived proverb from the Slavs:
if you come among the crows:
you better croak like them...

             wenn du kommen sie unter die krähen:
du beste krächzen wie (wei) sie (sei)...

yes... almost everyone is literate...
the priests and their monopoly of literacy have
disappeared..
but new monopolies have and new a literacy have
arrived...
come... sniff at me... if i ought to be a "beta"
sniffing glue off the heels of an alpha...
ich... bin... komplett!

         herr omega...          herr niemand-nix...
der letzte ratte...
                 pounding my heart to tease
a sponge...
   oh the air i breathe i will assure you...
my experience with prostitutes will never
be a Walt Whitman: ga-ga-gay...

'to a common *******' -
be composed - be at ease with me - i am walt whitman,
liberal and ***** as nature,
nor till the sun excludes you do i exclude you,
not till the waters refuse to glisten for you
and the leaves to rustle for you, do my words refuse
to glisten and rustle for you...

well **** me... between listening to
KULT's - brooklyńska rada żydów...
and... john williams' - if i were a rich man?

i'd have a harem and a camel's weight worth
of hard-on pills...
while in my youth i'd... invest wisdom and humour
to see a boxing match between king Solomon
and Buddha!
oh these labyrinths of constraints of what someone
else has assured themselves with
"gravity"... just prior...

by the girth of the right of birth and all that's
required of me to come around by: merely timing...
perhaps it would have just been easier to
fudge-pack *** with all the custard lot of ****
to begin with...

Walt Whitman... that ****** on a string...
while here i am... chore bound to juice up...
one of those "fair maidens":
always those... insufferable holes in the ground...
these: the phallus is... obnoxious...
it rises into the air and stratifies shade...
the **** the floral bud...
the mantis... the black widow...
the venus fly-trap...
     no... all caressing creatures!
at least i can both ingest fine food with
my mouth... while also able to:
puke the lies people speak...
which mingle with already eaten food...

if solipsism is merely a concept...
then... what ever happened to that Greek
demigod deity?
Narcissism is a concept: there's also the demigod
deity... but... it seems like...
the old gods of the Greeks kept the existence
of this... prancing ******* rabbit-toothed pony
a ******* secret...
where are we now?
in a society of sociopaths and ghosts!

the advent of Solipssus...
              someone train some dragons or conjure
up some demons to get this
urban rent-boy off his ******* peddle-stool!
to hell with the wrath of Venus!
she has enough ****** on c.c.t.v. cameras making
enough "dough" for not loaf of bread as we speak!

i just... wanted to be assured...
the 'ebrew deity assured me...
                 look at the letters...
the sounds and forms that people are and become...
come much later... but not too late...
they'll still be your... contemporaries...
you'll see a shift...
H-H: rugby...
                     Y: the tongue of the serpent...
begins with W and begins with M...
W: cosine... M: sine...

                   i owe nothing to the Hebrews...
but truth be told... this **** show of scouting for ******
in the ruins of Dubai...
will bite back... i'll be dead then...
the current sparring contest between
the Ishraelis and the Iranians...
always favour the minority...
the ****'ites are... the minority...
    the Persians would never bow to some...
hot-rod & hearted bunch of camel jockeys
findning literacy... all of a sudden!
"all of a sudden"!

           came the great tide... alliances are being made...
the Israelis are already making bargains with
the Persians... once... this... Arabian... fairground
collapses... once the ethics of the western mind
impose... when slavery was abolished in 1833
"somewhere": in Arabia it was only until 1970...

Christianity emerged in year 0...
Islam in year 633... circa...
give 'em some time... too much sun: turban's being
fried at present from all that imported *****-work...
but... come circa 1412... paganism was still
defended in Europe by an alliance
of Polacks and Lithuanians versus
the Teutonic knights...
i guess because the crusade involving
Barbarossa failed... i hope... the great ginger
gherkin did manage to find his way to...
Yerusalem...

  just saying: hands in the air... jazz hands:
Pontius Pilate imposing!
give those h'Arabs some time...
they've been sitting on dinosaur juice all this time
it's not wonder they want to pay out
their... well-earned: investment in...
sand... camel jockey has to have his yacht pride...
his... miracle of Dubai... a city built on sand...
unlike the thick splodges of London clay...
i will die before any of this tumbleweed giggling
happens...
it will be revelled in like a crescendo like no
other...
when... those Syrians were not welcomed
by those Saudis...
because the Saudis would only accept...
in between: Romanian ******...

                  as they would still decapitate youths
for staging minor protests...
the Slavs didn't welcome what the western Lands
seemed to be missing...
i guess: inbreeding paramount?
not... those... ****-less ***-starved youths
as if it wasn't a polygamous cult of bypassing
shared ambitions of...
a plumber hooked up with a hairdresser...
and they had an irish catholic lot of children
together, while the state allowed some aid?

no?
      well... i am a glistening slab of marble
lodged in a ray of moonlight with a smile...
all is not my plan: but the harvest of what's to be
allowed to be... made: demised.

i'm having trouble comprehending any sort
of dimensional-realism of what it is
that constitutes happiness...
it's a strangely vague concept:
as vague as my assumption that it can begin
to be comprehended within the imposed
coagulation of meaning(s), such as:
dimensional-realism...
happiness is just that for me: dimensional-realism:
it's beyond fleeting:
it's something that isn't a thing or a some of
a thing: but a summation: a disgruntled
summation:
happiness to me is what makes life
unbearably see-through... mortal:
debasing: too much of a struggle for this:
cynic: because i can at least confine myself
to the motion of thought that cynical:
pessimism is nowhere near the antonym of:
prior stated...
and... since i find no despair in melancholy:
there's a budging virility in a sadness that's
not sadness: in a piquant fermentation process:
because that's what melancholy is:
aside from the fact that it can also imply
being overtly sensitive to the world's affairs:
melancholy for me: is a side-project
of the empathy-sympathy dilemma...
you start to understand this condition without
having attempts and failed trials of feeling
this bummed out: because the sky is just
hanging by a thread and that's just that:
a sadness can at least drown you:
you can be dragged to the depths of despair:
aside from all the neurological circumstances
of the constituent parts of pain:
at least pain is real... but sadness isn't real:
it's metaphysical...
            so... after the physics of this...
at least sadness can drown you:
what's more important is trying to authenticate
it rather than succumb to the numbing:
when sadness drowns you:
numbing keeps you afloat...
in limbo: buoyant...
                                  like a sick joke from
the advances of extracting anesthetic from cloves...
ha... the experimental medicine of
psychiatric-pharmacology:
said the ego to serotonin and the likes:
i vill muster the ages and thought machines
of telepathic magic and make these pills
regenerate my tempers: my humors...
my willynilly the world is ******* silly...
it truly is a wonder to acknowledge that sanity
is judged on the basis of solipsism...
to me that's what sanity is: solipsism...
the moment that solipsism is undermined...
the whole world goes to ****:
other people exist: and you affect people:
who knows what the effects of that are on
the return... but sanity is just that:
a closed off world of the individual
who comes and goes from what established
culture and civilization in the abstract
to something functioning: like a bus timetable,
like someone who fixes bicycles...
like a baker a butcher...
maybe i'm just in the wrong line of profession...
maybe i'm interacting with people too much
and i need a breather...

now: whether i ****** up intentionally
while managing my cohort or not:
i'm about right in my estimate:
yeah: it must have been about 100 souls...
quadrant manager of the east
blue zone...
this is not some professional escapism
this isn't professionalism antics to scrutinize:
but i've been watching from the bottom up:
no one really told me there was
the vendor sign in
the stadium sign in
and the positional sign in:
i should have known that already:
so i ****** up...
i was mock signing everyone in...
keeping the tally on the numbers:
at least i got that right...
but then the W.I.S.E. agency rep came
up to me: there's been a glitch in the system:
no one has been signed in...
o.k.: i pulled out the PDA and the first thing
i noted was: what alphabet is this?
Armenian or Georgian?
besides the point: i'm not trying to argue:
but how can i rectify this: RECTIFY:
i actually used that word: which felt sort of weird...
because it was more than courteous
and at least the sort of word to use
to weaponize when making a ****...
so i heard the reply:
you will have to somehow scan them all
in...
****... they're all in position and the crowd
has started to come through the turnstiles...
well: if i have 6 supervisors under my wing...
right... yeah: sure... no problem:
i'll sort it out...
went to each supervisor and asked them
to collect the ID cards...
danced through the gymnastic of how to
look less colt and ****** at the same time...
did i manage to keep my head
on my neck and laugh at the guillotine of smiles:
because this work is a work
of buckles: who can buckle who
who can make someone else look less competent:
but the funny side of this story is that:
MEA CUL>PA:
i was the one the blame...
and isn't that the best learning curve?!
isn't it?!

KA-SI-AH... KASIA...
it's a brand of cooking margarine...
but i... do we need the dot hovering
above the iota when you have ś?
that's not SH but c'c'ould be:
no...
               Katherine... Kasia is a diminutive
version in the tongue i originate from:
like Matt is ugly to Matthew because
there's the door mat wipe your feet on it:
but Matti: ah... rings a bells... almost chimes
because i know the extension of my name:
proper: is Matisyahu...

śιč: which implies a gathering of
the Zaporozhian: Ż to gather the H in that word:
like: DZIDA: KULT und: FABRYKA
MEDIÓW...
in this blistering Augustus heat my mother
decides to bake cookies...
who's the sanity protagonist in this world
and who's the sanity narrator?
evidently i'm just the flimsy attache...
i get to spew one poem after another
treating each one with all the wipe-my-***
affection of reading a newspaper...

the biggest problem in my area i was managing?
a faulty lock:
on a turnstile door:
later the supervisor... Rebecca: Rebeccalla?
Italian? French? Romanian?
well: i was the magic locksmith by the end
of it: i fiddled with that door like
magic like i heard back my own
compliment to letters
via that association i made
through:

I / O + Φ = Θ + Ω

pata-physician hey presto!
pata-?
    oh... reference to Alfred Jarry:
that midge: midgit: lilly-putian:
on a bicycle: loved fishing on the Seine...
took a stab at the Polish Lack-Lands of
a king of England, some John...
so...

but if it worked with letters:
it could certainly work with actual artifacts
of use...
like keys and keyholes and
doors:
and by god if we're going to stamp
out the vampire allure of psychopathy
and scrutinize *******:
those two deviations are the first to go:
last are the intelligent alcoholics
who have a thirst for: whoops and
daisies...
but given it's only 20:00 hours
it's a long way to go until 22:00 hours...
i ****** up... clearly:
but i never envisioned that sort
of sign-out dynamic:
the company rep returned and gave her
little pep talk:
i was still engaging in a schizophrenia of sorts
with the radio:
but the INDIA call signs were busy elsewhere
i wasn't even asking permission to sign out these
100...
but how endearingly they lined up:
no squabble about who comes first and
who comes last:
i was was the first and the last: period:
de facto...

what trouble did we have?
oh, when you see a drunk woman in that
state: where she's completely lost
the tact of maneuvering: i wouldn't call it an art
at that point:
but that's how trouble starts:
misjudging the mood of the crowd:
you eject a woman in her state:
but she's compliant...
you eject her even though she's consciously-unconscious:
semi: not trying to come onto you:
so you're basically brokering with a child...
you start with that sort of ejection:
all hell goes goose-loose...
so?
you have to contain it... mitigate... maintain
a Martini smooth coercion...
stirred: not shaken...
get that ******* cauldron of people round round
right round! until you get that
cannibalistic mud of a sauce of *****
and **** and blood!

a good proportion of Manchester came to London...
maybe i have some ****** allure
i'm not excavating for my own personal
benefits...
for not benefit of the Olympics being
a welcome distraction...
once you return back to less of the utopian
day-dream and come back
to each society and the atomized man
and the tribal frenzy of sport as allegiance
to intra-national deflection of coincidences...
how is it that Arsenal and Millwall are
not having a derby, somehow Arsenral
and the Ids are?
       didn't Arsenal originate south of the Thames
in Woolich Woolitch: ******* don't *******
bother correcting me on the spelling:
WOOLWICH!

that still doesn't mean i'm going to
relax and laugh:
took my viking road-bicycle for one
last honor ride through Rise Park suburbia:
a ****** deal: couldn't possibly part with it:
but i did...
i couldn't leave it on a dumpster heap:
maybe someone might want to fix it up:
but as i rode it: crank crank... spill: ugh:
enough onomatopoeia(s) to gratify
bad ***...
yes, Joseph: my grandfather bought it for
me:
then i recounted the story:
but it's not like i left a dog half dangling
on a noose on a tree in a forest
slowly suffocating: it would have been cleaner
humane: to have simply slit the dog's throat
rather than left it semi-dangling on a tree:
sadistic ******* creatures...
who?                  who?!                         us!
for all that show of pretend in how
we organize each other:
what best shows is how disorganized we tend
to be:
this creature of monstrosity of the safe haven
of individuation of the western capsized boat
of thrills...
how serious is any manner of seriousness
going to become:
when i sober up i'll let you or whoever is listening
know:
hardly: since the ontology of man
has no potential for change
ever since Christ or the poetry of T. S. Elliot...
defeatist: no...
better to accept the fundamental poise:
this is what we are:
and we are never going to change:
there might be some glitches in our behavior:
but: safe to say:
if we have enough to eat and enough
to **** and enough to spew...
then all is ******* dandy...
           Darwinism didn't help given that once
there was the ordained formality of
the abstract of man:
now there's man looking at the anuses
of tapeworms and the mouths of chimpanzees
thinking about his psychology as imitations
dilemma...
ooh... the pressure for thinking is just ripe:
just enough: all it takes is just... one... more...
squeeze!

i suppose there are variations of this name...
some cite it as of: Turkic origin...
   i'm not going to agree or disagree...

evidently the insertion of the second surd H
was of my own scrutiny...
although it's not necessary...
i don't suppose the first surd H is necessary
either... given that i've employed
a macron on top of the vowel
to make emphasis of elongation...
which the surd H also stresses:

instead of kaa... either way:
a double emphasis...
like... writing something in: italics
after a colon...
the colon is an emphasis as is the italics...
"misnomer"...

... and some ****** ska-punk
with KULT's - brooklyńska rada żydów...
like any ****** might make summary
of: Oh... they left?
what happened to that old saying of theirs
that my grandfather recounted
to me once...
of the 'ebrews living in Poland...

wasze ulice, nasze kamienice...
your streets... our tenements...
i don't suppose...

anyways... enough of that...
no wonder... i'm no duracell bunny...
i can't just get a hard-on
in a company of two...
it's different when i'm completely:
unabashed... solo...
today i checked myself...
not much to look at...
cleavage, some thighs... hair... lips...
hands...
six times i spotted myself
with a proper wedding tackle...
six times i stopped myself from
*******...
so... this thing's on?
it's working...

now i see the bigger... funnier picture...
a few night ago...
after a... draught... "season":
i'm starting to suspect those 3 years
are actually 4 years without being
intimate with a women...

a dysfunction of the *******...
i'm not going to pop some ******* pill...
it's like push-ups...
or the trick the mind plays when
you're cycling up a hill and feed into
those thoughts of giving up...

perhaps i just wasn't that much into her?
perhaps she wasn't that much into me...
upon entering the brothel
she was sitting alone...
the matriarch said there would be more
available in about 20 minutes...
she was sitting alone...
i figured... if this isn't going to be a slap
in the face...
i don't know what will...

i like 'em... older... cougar-esque...
with a full-blossom of hips... stomach...
****... *** and **** like a royals-royce rather than
a sporty Lamborghini...
skin like... well worn leather...
nothing too: cherished and un-tested
akin to a ******...

for an hour i tried...
worked for about ten minutes...
but was i crippled with a sense of shame that would
turn me into a Jack ol' Ripper with
thoughts on revenge...
she was pretty... all that's pretty about
the Romanian countryside...
fake lashes... extravagant nails...
i caressed her... we exchanged some words:

ochi (romanian)... aha... oczy (******):
eyes... lips... ears... eyebrows...
i bit her tenderly to test the waters...
pinched her... suckled a while...
while my hands were already all octopus below
her threshold...
i ****** at my fingers and tested whether she was
aroused...
hell: i've missed most times than i could ever:
****'s sake... all that *****
and the point of insertion is always below
what i'm "expecting"...

but i drank too much...
better be all the more nervous and only 50ml of
whiskey in than... 300ml of whiskey
and having issues with the ******* tool...
literally...
hell... i would be willing to put on a strap-on
***** but... seeing how she was not in the mood:
and i found myself: not in the mood either...

eh... what could be bad with some kissing...
some caressing some hugging some...
if i were really going for some
Trojan cohort ****-buddy: forget me not
egoism...
i'd have them lined up, wouldn't i?
3 / 4 years without touching someone
so intimately...
i call that the ice-breaker date in the brothel...

mind you... i cleaned up after myself:
i insisted...
i took that welcome shower prior...
and as we walked out... i sat down...
cornered...
now there were three of them and the matriarch
sitting in the waiting room...

hmm...i suppose: UN-like talking to three
girls in a nightclub...
talking to three prostitutes in a brothel...
some "things" become... obvious...
i have something they want...
they have something i want...
who's going to date? no... one...

me talking casually with three prostitutes
in a brothel would be...
unlike that ****** funfair of three girls
in a nightclub...
the cards are laid on the table...
you either take it... or don't...

recently i've been listening to some "mano-sphere"
******* and i'm just like...
no... i can't listen to this...
get over it... stop talking about it...
turn your focus onto something else...
me... i just drank too much
and... she wasn't my type...
but she was sitting all alone and if i waited
with her for those 20 minutes before
the one that's my type walked in...

just some tenderness...
i don't mind paying for that...
at least there won't be any free nagging and *******...
ha! obviously!

- and as we walked out from a room of
improper deeds
there sat... Khāda... there was that immediate
connection: she: all leather...
like an armchair in reverse...
it's so terrible to stress sexuality among
the English:
why do i have to be that...
perverted... congested... ****-lord...
this...                  oh-it's-naughty borderline
gimmick... i don't like the concept of ***
among these natives...

but there she sat... this implosion
of an armchair...
glorious in her skin as leather...
she said she was Turkic... i figured...
honey... you belong further east down
the silk road: you are teasing the Raj...
all the more for me to like...

as she started to tease me with her *******
in her hands...
i told her: i'll be coming for seconds
for you... believe me...
she liked me... she even wanted to have a listen
to what music i was listening to:

wardruna's helvegen...
she asked me for my name...
matthew...           wha? she asked...
matti... mateo... mathias... mateusz...
second name... conrad...
two good names to have...
so i asked what her's was...
up came  Khāda...
but of course i had to...
   write it down on a tissue for her to read...

what a bulging plush of womanhood...
everything i want to be in love with...
older than me... plump...
something i can fix my pincers on:
creasing some more of the already established:
mandible parts...
well worn... skin like leather...

as i departed with 3 glasses of delay...
her friend joked at me being a gentleman for kissing
her hand upon parting...
Khāda i kissed on the hand and cheek...
while this Romanian girl lodged between them
i kissed on the forehead...

you can't not love women...
even if they are prostitutes...
   i can't listen to men stress the need for the purity of
women...
i've listened... i've come back with
stomach pains...
now a test... i'll drink less
and worry: even less...
about... what's that word...
  that word... exposure... no...
upkeeping... no...
stamina... almost...
         PERFORMANCE!

never you mind that i pull my ******* back
to give imitation to the most pristine
representation of the phallus....
among women who....
will not don a niqab etc.?
               for a compensation?
no problem:
i'll just just sheave and practice jerking off...
oh... this time...
i better not drink...

Khāda seems like a woman that's all that's
fun and i don't want a limp-biscuit-of-a-****
to worry her...
she seemed into me and i was... most certainly
into her...

the moment i forget having to desecrate
virgins... and lean in into some
flesh... is the moment i can pardon myself
with: life... and a scrutiny of relexation...
this impasse of sub-par...
performance will not discourage me...
i'm already planning a second date
of stomach crunches of: suckling up to
a phlegm-and-sick being ushered out
from this same gob...

3 / 4 years of "procrastinating":
from a... vector... akin to hunger...
akin to shelter...
when i need a ****... i need a ****...
sorry me for not hitting the mark
with an ******* and a fully-working
hard-on...

oh but this *****...
   she's right up there in me desire to dream...
since i hardly dream...
i can see her as this antithesis of *******:
although i've limited to looking at stuff
deviating from any possible ***** envy...
all the curves... hell... anything that might be sculptered
by Rodin...

i'll just go to the brothel...
nervous as a lobster... sober, though... and therefore
perform my little litany of:
piston at the ready...
juiced up oyster second best...

oh that "thought": what if i don't...
well then... i won't be... glamour-****-egoism
to mind... further conquests...
i hardly imagine christ on the crucifix
with a hard-on...
so i'll imagine myself being crucified
when attempting to be intimate
with a *******: for the giggles...

i'm not going to drop the pill... i'll continue to rephrase
the sentiment: i was either too drunk
or wasn't in the mood...
or she wasn't on my palette!
but this one... and since she was so engaging...
god... a volume of a woman...
everything requiring a leather analogy...
makes one think about *******
an elephant standing on a ladder...
but not an obese beached-whale type...
just this: completeness of woman...
that most certainly hasn't focused itself
on breeding offspring...

plush... harness proof...
come the barrage of the sea...
or the tide within the confines of a river summary:
this woman...
like she was... almost... edible...
of course she was edible:
but i'm teasing in halves...
she's still a movie creature...

here's be celebrating sobering up...
i'll pretend to ******* six times
on the thighs...
once on the cleavage...
before i take my turn...
on what her sigma will ****-up...

as i will not... listen to men bemoaning their...
adventures in Darwinism...
you can only hear so much of it...
after a while you just...
unconsciously gamble with what's on offer...
fair enough: protecting the younglings
while protecting your whittle harem...
i don't mind women that feel like...
their skin is leather...
and their body posturing is an imploded
armchair...
i also much admire the ancient Roman
liberalism concerning...
fostering...
the ancient Romans... the most noble...
of the highest hierarchical certainty of preservation...
em... they...

fostered offspring?
******* son of a ******* uncle: i'll father you...
said some Augustus...
what's being focused on?
the... ******* IDEA...
i have no concern for biological reality:
i have, concern for... the cognitive disparity that runs
counter to... whatever nature unconscious dictates!

the problem men have with
the promiscuity of women...
me? i just went to the prostitutes...
let's have it done and dusted...
i'm not here to argue...

my god that blush... of this Turkish...
gloat of a wheat loaf... and...
          amylase of the nibbled on *******...
all her sponge of buttocks...
her turn-tilde of hips...
             she's not edible but i... just... want...
to... eat: her!