.pr.s.: well... if i am deluded? can i claim melancholly to be of equal ontological excuse to a flu... and say: i was infected by a mental illness? and there was never some, "mythical" origin of the illness... as you're sure i'm aware, i do not associate mental illness as having origin in a genesis of solipsism... there's nothing Kantian about it... for me... mental illness is very much an extension of virology... but this be the tempus for the crux of the body contra mind dichotomy... which since the 17th century hasn't been resolved... or has been... by the zombie squadron of the pharma-ingesting spooks of: awaiting a phobia of the white-coats urban myths... of course i fall to sleep thinking about killing someone... why wouldn't it? i end up eating a chicken the next day... what's the difference of a "somebody" for the worth of "something"?

whiskey,
           KMFDM...
very much akin
to ready to blow...

   nine inch nails...

the kids and the punk
and what
was industrial rigid...

and "being" white...
well...
if we're all going
to geneology
the whole "concern"
for history:

originating from
a people
with not tabloid
literature
having succumbed
to colonialization...

"save" the white women...
what?!
with not asian fetish?!
who, are, you?
teenage suicides
engaging in social
media...

             well...
Freddy Mercury was
just revived via:
another bites the dust...

what's agitating?
the inactive presence
of a screen,
that, i somehow need
to make tattoo of...

scripted rhapsody of
the believable people...
like:
people who arm their
psychology with
the orientation
of... "petting" tarantulas
or boa snakes...
touch all you want:
but try a second time
to extract character
and behavioural nuance
from these... "things"...

me?
voluntary celibate...
cenobite *** a
lost leash of leather straps...
every time i ****
off: the hand
becomes the ****...
grip and no soft pouch
of a cuddle of
****** in,
either lip, or...
no... i don't know
what a "missing"
******* feels like...

punk bores me...
punk always bored me...
esp.when championed
by commentators
alligned to...

do you know what
the entry criterion
for the proud boys
was?
   being punched...
no... not on the face...
and having to remember
a recital
of the pleb's favorite
cereal brands...

how about a new
limbo for the "worth"
of entry...

punching yourself
in the face
20+ times...
and then remaining silent...
while the history
of your mother's
****** exploits is
revealed to you
by your grandmother...

how's that?
i pet a cat, i *******,
shape of the water
(females *******),
i take a ****,
i take a ****:
yeah... sorry..
no scented candles,
no internet cameras...
did i coincide with
jordan b. peterson:
yes...
i will never **** these
women...
given they're
**** actresses from
the 1970s...

i, like: vintage...
quirky hair
with the...
gob's worth of *******'s
worth of scrap...
and a bullion
of throbbing quirk
looping lips...
  
i have assimilated
over 20 years in england,
3 years in scotland...
being asked: where are you
from?
like some ******* tourist...
****** me off...

was i going anywhere?
or... point being:
am i, "anywhere"?
ah...
so i am nowhere:
so reading Heidegger makes
a lot of sence, then?
given that
                    no
is no sein
          and that...
as much of where
                    is "there"...

but this sort of pedantic
address for the use of language,
does translate into
the habitual, and the "readily" given
use, concerning the "idle"
hands of a plumber...

a lay-job contra
the pedantic interest...
well... sure...
              we can succumb
to investigating contrasts
that are not worth the while
for being 2 x 2 rubric
statements...
having lost purpose
as 2 x 3...

thus, at times...
i almost forget...
      time...
                 that precedence
hierarchy...
  the precedence membrane
of who are allocated
the purpose of being
contemporary...

   i... somehow...
forget to dismember
the cradle mimic sound
of insect
(entombed in the cracking
wood),
with the rattling sound
of a lizard limbo...
to the R of the trill...
like... what gives off the same
found of creaking
footsteps,
or the burning of wood...
close approximate...

yet there are some people
who i know are not
deserving of a precedence
whether in hierarchy or...
but these people will
congest themselves
to a bite-luck quest
of argument in reproductive-recreation...
so?
failure escapes them
now...
   failure?
           will not escape them...

greeks might have
"invented"
1 + 1 = 2...
no argument, loose association...
but the hindu theologial
rubric, stating:

evil deed + apathy = good eventuality
                                       for all...
  is necessarily false,
is worth being negated...
i like the Hindu algebra
of time being both:
expansive, & constrictive...

    "my" world?
has already disappeared...
   by coincidence...
i've watched how...
            
    no... i'm not here to make sense,
to invest in a non-empirican
standard of a (0, 0) vortex
of beginning:
clinging to being perpetually
cleaned...
  amnesia-ridden...

         and even if i let my
ailment be known "to" or
"in", "public"...
                              the life of
a baker, or a butcher...
can't become overtly,
  "complicated"...
unless it's a genetic anomaly...
because a flu...
is a type of virsus...
poly-morph...
that is never...
    translated from person
to person...
mental illnesses are
never deemed worthy
of the strict scrutiny of
virology...
like...
all of thinking is safe...
and is not ridden with
       pathology...
  like... mental illness
is a hubris of medicine...
   like: all of medicine is
only physical,
and no metaphysics is handy...
how...
      
     like... mental illness is
such a pathology,
such a fetish,
that... it cannot be correlated
to something,
aking to the phenomenon
of propaganda...
  sure...
           the common flu...
i know where my mental "illness"
stems from...
a russian girlfriend...
who told me...
she was abducted as a child,
and *****,
and what not...
trying to excavate
an ******* from me...

mental illness?
   well... bilingual is the new ******...
and any personal
interaction is: worthy of
the... very understanding public...
you know what song
i have, to rely to lodged
in my mind?

   rob zombie's - michael...

me?
     yeah, i know:
a beard doesn't make a man...
then again...
i rather be subject to
something being itchy,
than itch for something...

proud boys:
you sure you joined the right club?
what... entry level of:
get punched by the "sharks"
having to cite breakfast cereals?!
wha......?
    it's like i'm tied with
this chick from Siberia...
    and i can't get be rid of her!
it's like:
we married...
   upon the cranium ring
of death being part of
our ceremony of fingers...
she ****** around,
i went to the *******...
   it's like: that ******* giggle of her's?
that **** is haunting...
russian milk skin...
some new variant of aristocracy...

so... proud boys...
get punched giving names of breakfast
cereals?!
right...

ever punch yourself in the face
to the point of giving 'erself
a plum-shadow?
****! better rewrite than in
"english":

          pflaumeschatten;

oh i'm married...
i'm ******* certain of it...
but the priest
wasn't a closet pedohpile...
it was whoever
the it that strangulates
my he to she and
her she to my she
of a St. Mort... or death...
yeah...
i'm married: post-scriptum...

punch yourself in the head
20 times for a black-eye,
and then tell me:
there is not an element
of virology
worth being investigated
in the realm
of mental illness...
common flue...
and...
being a girl who says prior
to wanting to *******:
i was abused as a child,
i was molested...

better death being the *******
priest
than some *******
dog-wishing leash of a:
scuttle for words & worms...

she can be as *******
randy as hell...
while i can have the "pleasure"
of having kissed several
prostitutes...
   marriage, inverted...
because i just can't stop
myself from seeing similarities
in...
   the public realm...
of...

the foul breath of the other's
ego...
  ****** for biling.
   psychotic for by 'er ego
  'ur ego too...
         it's like a marriage
of the anti-materialists,
the wedding ring of paupers...

mentall illness is so funny...
when having to compensate
its difficulty,
with the "difficulty"
of having to attire oneself
with the role of
being a supermarket cashier...

it's like:
this is medicine, yes?
so... what isn't metaphysics,
isn't exactly mental illness,
but a meta-illness...
  so... the orthodoxy of the scalpel...
heeeeeeeeeeeeeeee heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
******* fairground!
let's do circles and zigzags!

and that one *****
that told herself:
                   i have to get away....
my love has a grave
and i ****** well hope
there's only her name
on the crux of the marble...
and her ghost
******* my dead body
to boot.

today i kneaded dough
for gnocchi,
tomorrow i will knead
dough for pizza...

                     yesterday
(and a year's worth)
i visited
   a *******...
she was 10 times more helpful
than an English psychiatrist...

over 10 years ago
i visited a ******
neurologist...
hardly a Mt. Everest
summit escapade...
who told me...
otherwise...

- 'am i mentally ill?'
             i asked, the ******
    neurologist?
- 'if anyone says you're
mentall ill,
then they, themselves,
are mentally ill.'
            replied the ******
neurologist.

but that doesn't leave me
off-the-hook...
a non-suspect...

  - would i succumb to
making a serial demand
for the killing
of prostitutes?
i prize the worth of
a ******* to be that,
above,
   a ******* psychiatrist!
which, bewilders me...
jack the ripper types...
morphed into
our, current living...
    
   only yesterday i made
a promise:
   i will forget sleeping
late...
in order to make
the sauce, and knead
the dough...

      i will not,
for one moment,
concern myself
with the zenith of
the day: of providing
the pristine slab
of ****... for my omniscient
"father" to behold...
    
just piano...
trickling like rain...
lazily,
off the fingertips of
thomas newman...
     never akin
to the mock-solitude
of a violin
what is spoken,
as well: audible,
as as well in mute:

thumb, rubbing itself
against the middle & index
fingers...
to suggest:
money is needed...

and i "almost" always
am readied to cry
for an expression
of beauty...
akin to
    a vaughan williams...

i am forever suspect...
in a Kafkaesque twist
on the standings...
             i am...
   precursor... "suspect"...
i close my eyes
and sift through seconds,
minutes, than
can become an hour...
in quasi-akimbo...
perched on a windowsill...
"kneading"
my *** against the folded
leg i am sitting on...

                   sly caught
"on the nod"...
   given that...
i know what an alcoholic looks
like, how he behaves...
cheap-***...
            as i am...
but i'm yet to fathom
someone who drank to
ascribe the practice of:
seeking the cheapest
sedatives...

       like... i've never met...
someone...
   who would like to
venture into explaining
veterinarian practices...
seems all the big-G-bling-singhs
have the teeth covered...
mafia of the
scuttling sigh...
- mostly...
if you are not going to
eat it... why pet it
mentality...
          
as much of an awaited
conviction from
a potted fern as...
all the troubles in
the middle-east...
well... part people...
you solve your ****...
and we'll be...
  "nowhere"...
looking way past the chance
for
        a... revision of sunrise...

surely...
bit boy tactic...
you people can solve
your people's problems
out...

what happens when
white people experience
problems?
sure... they run... they hide...

and what happens
when brown people
experience problems?
they run after the white people.      

   unless ****** got dough...
me... stand all self-explanatory...
what part of URBAN
did you not understand
in a NON-ETHNIC application
of the slur?

        ROBO-AUTO-MAY-TOW...
ROBO-AUTO-MAY-TOW
SAY-PLEASE.­..
YES... oh qui qui monsieur
             RAP-AH-GO-GO...
      i died and neither
the life, or the death...
were all that satisfying...
  you really need people
who cherish life
to fill up your Auschwitz...

no point killing off
nihilists...
who... are more willing to
die...
than you are willing
                                   to live "it",
beyond what "it" is...
       "it"
           funny word...
to have lived a what,
to have lived,
to have lived a willing-
       to have lived, also,
the attache -ness...
       diatribe...
      
       you would be right
in suspecting...
at what point will this man
give this up,
and tow and burrow into
solving a crossword
puzzle?

       i guess "it" ist leben...
thank god so few
of us end up
                  as biographies;

that old fool's gold
of saying: deeds outstrip
words...
   so... why succumb
         to words in the end?

you're, breeding them... (a sing along piece).*

        as the british p.m cited:
we're standing shoulder-to-shoulder
with the spanish gov.:
   well... of course you are:
  by allowing it to replicate itself!
  impotent tongue-waggling
                     for all i care.

rarely do i start reading
the front page of a newspaper
and begin by spitting
on the face of the culprint...
come on, the spanish?!

but you know what's abhorring,
what's trully abhorrent in
in all of this?

they call the far right terrorists
idiots, mentally ill,
   gnomes, whatever you want,
losers, living with their parents
etc. etc.

masochism has another face,
the jihadists at least get
to be associated with *pure, evil...
oh no, but the white-boy gets
slandered for his deeds,
he can't be distanced within
the category of evil...

      by my count of words:
you deserve whatever comes
from your side...
this... this quasi-belitteling
of "virtue" that encompasses cain...
that ****** me off the most...
western europe just gave up
the potency for evil,

anagram of vile, if you haven't noticed...

you give up evil and call it a mentall
illness, you are basically
encouraging the same old masochism
of psychiatric "benevolence"...
*******, wankers, ****-eaters...

have you baptism of islam,
i don't mind,
  right now? i'm imitating
pontius pilate:
   i am washing my hands clean
regarding the matter...

you start calling these whites
by the same name you call
the jihadists...
   evil, vile...
       you start calling them
losers, mentally ill retards,
you're only going to infuriate them...
i know how far words can
climb and overshadow: even mt. everest!

stop pushing your little safe-space
gimmick...
   treat them as equals,
   or? have more of them from within...

why do you think the russians
celebrated the outcome the breivik enterprise?
**** me, they cheered...
   i just hope the ****** sees what's
waiting him outside the prison cell...

you can't, you can't, you can't just call them
losers, idiots, mentally ill...
    call them in plain speak: evil...
ah, wait... 'ere come the spin doctors,
disciples of white masochism,
that can only be attributed to, a jew;

how's ******* that ****, for you?
i hope sure as **** that he got
a ***** on the crucifix...
      frictive fiction, that's what
the new testament is: frictive fiction...
the old testament? i have no beef
with it...
    thanks to jesus i can solidify
my anti-semitism,
and... funny enough: it only involves him!