title: the what
body: or? what?!

i always wondered how it is that people see
images when asleep... vast architectures of dreams...
even this phenomenon of the recurrent dream:
what an alien concept: people have recurrent dreams?
like what: they're school children...
sitting in a classroom having to learn on repeat
a lesson they haven't learned the first time round?
it must be like that... a cosmic "deity" is sending
them a... electric bill reminder: or something?
i dream so little... i once bemoaned this...
but if i hear a words being uttered in dream...
if i see a word... let's say... i'm content...
                but i sort of figured it out...
   in the distance... while perched on the windowsill...
i "accidently" squinted my left eye while having
closed my right eye... squinted it and peered
at a street lamp in the distance...
         wow... the light splintered... obviously
the source of light remains intact...
but by squinting my eye... a beam of light races to me...
but no... not directly into my eye...
the source of light is directly present in my eye...
this beam of light... it travels... to my forehead...
my brain? just above my eye... into me...
do i have a third eye? is it closed: implying that's
the reason i do not have visual dreams?
well... it's not that i'm wholly ignorant of certain
matters... i would be ignorant of certain matters
if i had recurrent dreams...
   no cosmic "deity" is sending me mail... via dreams...
it probably figured: no need to bother him...
he's quiet content with being awake:
he'll probably find that... by squinting his eye...
he'll see where light travels to...
  he'll probably find out that he has a third eye...
then he'll realise that... he's not getting my mail...
because it (the third eye is closed), which will tell him:
he's content with his life, with his being...
              no self-help guru is going to touch his
   auspicious disposition...
well... i guess that's about right...
                whatever the science is... the brain is a sponge
of electric currents... it short-circuits
when a person is asleep and the unconscious pretends
to be consciousness and... conjures up dreams...
because that's how the unconscious pretends to be
consciousness... i.e. conjuring dream architecture
for the sleeper... no... i'm not interested in an objective
language... i've heard too much objective language
when doing 3 years of a chemistry degree...

oh but the more poignant point...
     how many years was it... for a 21 year old boy...
boy... clearly not a man...
  to get over his first "love" (the first best **** of his
life... and being torn from it)...
  the years of a ****-less desert... or just timid "lovers"...
14... years... and finally...
ah... a new chapter... hmm... love is less hard-hitting
this time... my head doesn't come off...
my heart has a steady beat... sure... sometimes
the stomach and intestines give in to something
that's outside the realm of superficiality...
of idealism... but it's a different sort of "butterflies"...
some butterflies are actually moths...
they are warning cramps...
          the hot flusters are there... that's when the moths
come... the stomach cramps created by the moths
are a way of providing me with a warning:
this girl is a bad idea... even she's telling you that she's
a bad idea... the people in your vicinity say
she's a bad idea... she's nice to strangers... but it's a mask...
perhaps she was only nice to strangers because
she worked with you and noticed how you treated
everyone equally... and... what you actually saw?
a show... an act... because she was in your presence...
otherwise she wouldn't behave like she did...
double-cross... back-stabbing... political in the sense
of: puny-politics of in-group and out-group preferences...
oh... mind you: the retreat...
she knew she ****** up... but you nonetheless didn't
confront her about a rumour... against you...
you did the opposite... to ploughed forward with a charm
offensive... oh the sweetness of the retreat...
because... she just started looking ridiculous...
those are the moths... you get flustered... for a reason...
you learn to fall in love like a boy again...
if she's putting on an act... hmm... you put on act...
                 beautiful... this sieve... to separate the bull-*******
from the authentic people...
mind you... the butterflies do come...
but they're not the same as when you were younger...
you have to work on stamina of the... ahem...
"certain parts" of the anatomy that are essential
to copulate... the butterflies come... sort of in reverse...
you get butterflies from merely thinking about:
giving a good bedroom performance...
and the many tricks involved in doing just that...
fasting... but eating a heavy loaded diary meal in between
two extreme exercise sessions on a bicycle...
30 minutes each... drinking white wine...
taking your time to get to location... walk a bit...
buy a small sample of brandy... relax...
   get rid of any possible thought...
              eyes wide open... no need to invoke the heart...
keep it the size of a pebble...
and no... thinking about nothing will not suddenly
make your head to get chopped off with some
wild ideas that this encounter might go somewhere
like: a house, 2 children a dog... holidays together...
whatever...
               the butterflies are a preparation tool...
once... my first ever girlfriend...
          we went on a date... well... sort of... it wasn't a "date":
it was a DAY... a day-date...
art gallery... cinema... Troy just came out...
then to a sushi bar...
           it was an entire day...
                        it was a glorious 2004 summer...
we were so young... so innocently young...
                 i took her to the train station... hugged...
then a former "friend" of mine called me and said...
she said that when she hugged you...
she had the butterflies... blah blah...
so i called her up... started dating... thank god it was
at the end of high school...
i literally had no drama in high school...
then again... it was a Catholic school...
we were all in strict uniform all the time...
   that's always good... drama: esp. with women...
begins on the level of fashion...
                          send your children to a school with strict
school uniforms... point being...
the butterflies came after: for her...
now? butterflies come prior... anticipatory butterflies...
could i love... again?
what the hell is love? commitment? i tried that once...
no regrets... it's much better being the person being
rejected than doing the actual rejection...
i'm committed to keeping the cats fed, warm and healthy...
i'm committed to keeping the house tidy...
to ironing the shirts... to cooking meals...
i'm committed to taking care of people at football events
in stadiums... i'm committed to... looking very
******* presentable on the job... to the point where
i fixate on correcting my tie while someone in the audience
tells me i look sharp...
love? what the hell is that?
love is... when someone sticks around...
is that love? so love is not the little dramas...
the great ***?
the intimate:
eating-each-other's-eyes-with-each-other's-eyes?
love is not... eating each other's lips
with each other's lips?
love is not... what the tongues get up to
when the eyes are closed?
to be honest?
    if love is anything but the briefest encounter...
my god... what torture... or rather:
what boredom! perhaps i could love...
a deaf girl... i'm being serious... when i'm alone
in the house for a period of 2 weeks or longer...
i sometimes startle myself or rather:
the silence of the house... the house is startled
when i finally break down and speak with irritability...
why? because the cat is meowing too much...
who said that?!
                   well... when the neighbour comes round...
blah blah... but in general...
peace & love... peace & love... & solitude...

i can love: the smell of damp London in the Mile End
vicinity... i can love.... salted pork bagels
of Brick Lane... i can love... the emptiness
of Hyde Park... i can love the traffic from Romford
into Central London... cycling...
i can love a good curry... decent music...
i can love... feeling ***** throughout the whole
day being lazy and not washing myself until
the evening... which included my teeth...
taking a decent amount of ****... even diarrhoea...
a walk in the woods...
but... loving someone else? oh my god...
spare me... i'd like them to pass freely...
    that sort of love implies... also mourning them...
losing them... i don't want to love because
i don't want to mourn them...
       now... what this second encounter with great
*** has taught me... it's not love...
it's only a momentary attachment...
   no... this is "confusing"... to get dragged into "love"
with all the petty squabbles...
"planning"... whatever that might be...
sure... it would make life easier... if the bills are split...
someone does the cooking... someone does
the cleaning... blah-d-blah... but if i can do that
all by myself... love... for... what?
a ******* conversation? about what?
what is there to talk about... if you've been
a sort of monk from the age of 21... and still sort of are
aged 35... what... common language?
i could swear i'm en route to somewhere else...
en route: well... at least no one is going to mourn me...
that's a big relief...
    love... people throw this word around like
it has some mystical properties...
          my grandfather didn't understand it either...
he provided for his family and was treated like ****...
drove him to abuse alcohol...
he didn't drink prior to: something having happened...
oh... wait... i think i can pin-point it to:
my grandmother not wanting a third child
and getting an abortion instead...
         i'm just guessing... completely sober prior
to some event... whether it was that or not...
do i need that? i'd play along to... being the surrogate
father... much easier... mould the mind...
to hell with the body... again: what's love again?
abusing someone... because... now you get access
to their domestic routines and the diamonds galore
of meeting up and having *** is gone...
can't people do that: best... on their own?
          i don't remember being ever good at sharing
something with someone...
time... esp. time...
                              there's nothing better than walking
alone in the woods... or the fields in Essex...
never mind cycling alone... why... on earth...
would anyone require company... conversation:
to upset the gentle balance of the wind rustling
through the trees, ferns and bushes?
- need to reinforce my own ontology...
    by... god... i abhor the objective language of...
2nd? 3rd wave Darwinism?
maybe that's why i'm going down the existential
rabbit-hole of subjective-language...
the objective-language reality of 2nd? 3rd wave Darwinism
that now... merely focuses on the dating and mating
side of things... but has... absolutely no...
sense of wonder... about the natural world...
Darwinism in the mainstream no longer focuses
on... the external world... on sharks... on birds...
it's all internalised garbage ***** about who is:
and who isn't getting laid...
objective-language reality and all that fact spewing
*******... doesn't it become... sort of... tiresome?
it's sort of like the language of: astrology...
i'm hearing something... but... at the same time...
is this Mystic Meg from the tabloid The Sun shedding
light on... the prophecy for the zodiac sign: Taurus?
no good with a subjective-language reality?
life is a FACT... but not an EXPERIENCE?
wow...
              really? no one wants to hear the objective-language
of Darwinism: esp. in its current form...
reduced to the dating & mating flesh market...
after all... the original language of Darwinism...
it wasn't objective as such... it was a subjective-language
dynamic... it was a discovery: eureka!
i found something! look! look! as a theory:
it wasn't cold... it was... FRESH...
objectivity doesn't deal with excitement...
it's cool, calculated, repeated... firm... well established...
didn't Darwinism face backlash at first?
heated debates? ergo... it originated in a subjective-language
dynamic... no?
objective-language structures are what makes
pedagogy happen...
            but for something to be found to be original?
subjective-language structure is more becoming...
of how something is conveyed... expressed...
passed down... the modern take on Darwinism has
been hijacked by... popular psychology...
and... psychological adding up of data points...
the self-evident failures of the dating & mating
market monopoly by a... small percentage...
oh... the natural world is always the best excuse to use...
because... all those years of man trying to overcome
the natural world... ships to cross the seas...
aircraft to defy gravity... the invention of pencilin
to combat disease... pain-killers to block pain receptors...
yet... we're now... going back... way back...
men created certain ways to bypass...
natural discriminations... monogamy...
           once upon a time... Darwinism was once
a revival of the man-child ancient Greek philosopher
mentality: awe-struck... wow... look at this...
the original language was a subjective-language...
the use of objective-language came later... much later...
when the subjective truths / intuitions were to be later
tested... established... given to the rigour of...
something akin to mass-production...
   pedagogy... but the original language structure wasn't
objective... in the least...
hardly... now? Darwinism... "Darwinism" and the use it
has... in the modern world... it's all about ***...
no... no need to spare some thought-awe
for the Greenland shark...
   and his "funny" companion: the eye-parasite...
   Ommatokoita... yeah... the parasite attaches itself
to the shark's eyes... and slowly makes him go blind...
the shark lives for 120± years...
the shark itself? Somniosidae: sleeper shark...
                       in pop conversation... that's what?
Darwinism was supposed to be used to explain this...
not be weaponized for the dating & mating game...
i hate what Darwinism has become...
the natural world imploded... Darwinism "borrowed"
something from history: it wasn't supposed to borrow...
any new... spontaneous evolution?
we're in stasis... no new evolution in our lifetime...
i can guarantee that... well... unless you're going to talk
about single men... there's going to be lightning speed
re-adaptation methods in place:
the dodo project mentality...
   but Darwinism in its current format:
the objective-language reality... nothing's new...
spewing these psychology-mingling facts is a bit like...
reading yesterday's news for... about a week...
while at the same time... nothing is "supposed" to happen
a week from the day the news were being recited...
but the shark is sleeping in complete darkness anyway...
so... parasite? or is it rather... a symbiosis?
it doesn't matter whether he could see or not...
he couldn't see jack ****...
perhaps being blind allows the shark to live
much longer?

consequences? there's no returning to a subjective-language
Darwinism of... exploration...
the weight of the objective-language "Darwinism"
is... too annoying... because?
it has lost clues regarding... exploring the external world...
of focusing on nature...
it has been hijacked by en masse psychologism
of statistics...  herding... herding and... shackling
in... chicken cages...
            once upon a time Darwinism was like...
finding out about... navigation of the seas...
now? n'ah ah... Darwinism has become internalised...
weird that... internalised via an objective-language...
i can imagine something being internalised via
a subjective-language... but...
paradox: subjective-language externalises...
it doesn't internalise... objective-language internalises...
since... it's a drill-process...
why remember 1 + 1 = 2? not because it's a subjective "truth"...
it's an "objective" truth...
add a measure to the numbers... seconds... meters...
you get the picture...
that's why we think: i guess...
we internalise objective-language and why we externalise
subjective-language...
     or... to put it more simply...
            that's why we sometimes can't say certain things...
to externalise subjective-language?
sign-language... body language...
how we speak without speaking when using our
body... what's that? internalise objective-language...
surprise surprise when someone has
internalised subjective-language:
the casual expression is: they're speaking their mind...
no?
   my god... good thing i started reading
Sartre in English... that's what i'm here for...
to externalise objective-language?
that's how the current wave of Darwinism goes...
fact... or rather a BLITZKRIEG VON TATSACHE...
a lightning strike of fact!
   i won't use the plural... term for facts...
because? the singular implies a cascade, a: boom boom boom
rather than a tsunami of facts...
to externalise objective-language?
to regurgitate... to parrot... to read something and speak
it back to someone else...
never to think about it...
                how are the reins on the flow on this, Matthew?
i think i'm about to find closure...
people who don't read that much will
find this as a sort of a word-salad... i got that...
no need to think when reading:
or rather... perhaps thinking about something else...
when reading it... that's why i'm not going to make
any youtube videos... writing is a good sieve...
it keeps the idiots out... the ones that have
this irresistible need to speak to a camera:
but not a person...
  and what am i going to do? repeat my point(s)
again? like Sartre: "reinvent" the ******* circle?
i think i was pretty clear so far...
i'm going to take a selfie and send it to Khedra...
but unlike the normal selfie...
i'm going to take the whizz-kid selfie type of pointing
the camera at a canvas of glass... with my reflection
entombed in it... no... not inverted with the camera
looking at me... i'll be taking a photograph of the camera
looking with me... at something... well... me...
i'm not going to muddy the waters by the fabric of
reiteration: it will not prove my point any more...
job's done... i'm done...
i reached the zenith of my argument...
the modern interpretation of Darwinism *****:
***... big ***... elephant sized ***...
it is (an) internalised objective-language...
rubrics... pedagogy... the original was an externalised
subjective-language... where there was once awe,
suspense... now? nothing's new...
move on... nothing new to see...
******* menopause or...
myopia... or... a return to the geocentric reality
of the world... people still don't see it?
we've returned to a geocentric model of the world...
because of ****** frustrations...
and it's not like women are incapable of starting
wars... no... because Helen of Troy is just
a ******* myth... no no... just an innocent creature...
what caused the war was the hurt pride
of the brother of Agamemnon... Menelaus'...
yeah... that's what started the war...
not Helen's infidelity with a toy-boy fling of Troy...
thank god the matter was settled between
Hector and Achilles...

i'm not going to be ****** and reiterate...
i made my point...
if it's not clarified already... then i think you...
probably can't be my contemporary...
i'll need some necromancy readers...
people who might understand me when i'm dead...
i never expected to be understood by people who...
just so it happens... are alive... while i'm alive...
fat chance of that happening...
i sometimes try to give directions to people
and they are insistent on not waiting...
while i try to conjure up a map of my locality...
an before i can give them directions they
assume: oh... you're not a local...
drive off... *******... wait wait...
i'm walking these streets with a can of beer...
what's the ******* hurry?!
can i have a minute or two?
i'm not a local... even though... i perfectly know
the timing on some of the traffic lights...
at junctions... o.k.: whatever...
people in a hurry... are usually people with
nowhere to go...
yeah, sure... be free... whatever...
you're apparently as much needed elsewhere as
the place you just left: asking for directions...

god... bring me more of these sort of people...
the type of people i can tell to ******* without telling
them to *******...
i'm starting to love it.

Loss
That's what they call it,
Or mourning,
But I've lost before and
I've mourned
Before
Yet never ever
Known pain like this

Pragmatic,
That's me to a tee,
Yet pragmatism ain't cutting it
This time
Because I fear and I feel
Your departing
Before the decision
Or announcement made

And it hurts!
Oh sweet Lord it hurts,
In ways I cannot clamp down,
Or externalise or
Stop the feeling of,
A crippling *******
Of sobbing deep inside
Where none can see

And you're reading our poems
Which might be hope
Or might be farewell
I just don't know,
And not knowing is bad enough
At any time but this?
This matters so much more,
This is killing me

Objectively I know we should part,
Objectively I know you'll struggle
Because you love and desire me
On so many levels,
And to not have me would ****,
Yet is it enough my sweet?
Is it enough
To save you n me?

And if not?
If not enough?
If I lose you to another,
If I never get to hold you,
Make love with you
Fill you with my love and
All I am?
How do I then live?

At times like these step back
Ease into it with mind relaxed
We can only persist
Try to see your former self
Contest the things we could have done
Externalise internal thoughts
To talk alone
Old or young
Discuss the paths which were pursued
You and me are one and yet we've had so much fun
Today's the day as yesterday
Is gone