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Matt  Nov 2014
Chat
Matt Nov 2014
biblondesubgal: hey miss
queenkendraxx: happy turkey day
queenkendraxx: Is it you and your mistress?
biblondesubgal: yes maam it is
queenkendraxx: what are your names?
biblondesubgal: shes kellie im allan
queenkendraxx: She is 25, you are 20?
biblondesubgal: its reversed
queenkendraxx: Do you always swallow the black stud's ***?
queenkendraxx: Lol tell her she should put it in your food so you can have a daily dose Allan
queenkendraxx: Do you have a ***** name Allan
biblondesubgal: allyssa
queenkendraxx: Ask her what she thinks of Allison
queenkendraxx: Allyssa the bbc *****
queenkendraxx: huh?
biblondesubgal: she said she likes allison too
queenkendraxx: tell her she rocks
queenkendraxx: you are her ******* property, huh?
biblondesubgal: yes miss i am her property
queenkendraxx: I do yoga and pilates to keep my body in tip top shape
queenkendraxx: DO you two have pics?
biblondesubgal: no sry
queenkendraxx: mmkay don't wanna share or just don't have?
biblondesubgal: dont like to share
queenkendraxx: that is cool what does Kellie look like?
queenkendraxx: Well I would delete it
queenkendraxx: but I understand
biblondesubgal: blonde blue eyes 5'4ish 36c
biblondesubgal: your first pic was blurry
queenkendraxx: How did you two meet?
biblondesubgal: mutual friend lol
queenkendraxx: was she ooking for a *****?
queenkendraxx: looking
queenkendraxx: What is her black stud's name?
biblondesubgal: not that i was aware of. she didnt get aggressive until like a month after we were dating
biblondesubgal: daquan
queenkendraxx: hehe I will show you
queenkendraxx: pics of my previous and some of my past blac studs
queenkendraxx: How big is Daquan's ****?
biblondesubgal: 8.5 in pretty thick too
queenkendraxx: big heavy *****?
queenkendraxx: mmm
biblondesubgal: oh yes so heavy and full
queenkendraxx: lol ask her if you have a ***** ****
biblondesubgal: she said yes its so cute his little ***** ******
queenkendraxx: ow big
queenkendraxx: how big 5 in?
biblondesubgal: im 5.5 in
queenkendraxx: aww not bad
queenkendraxx: for a *****
biblondesubgal: thank you miss
queenkendraxx: can I talk to Kellie for a while?
biblondesubgal: sure can i watch yall type?
queenkendraxx: yes *****
biblondesubgal: hey hunny
queenkendraxx: Hey Kellie
queenkendraxx: I love your *****, so obedient-- I have one too
queenkendraxx: His name was Matt but I call him Maddeline
biblondesubgal: yeah? was he hard to break?
queenkendraxx: at first wanna see the black stud that helped me break him?
biblondesubgal: yes please. i have my ***** watching
biblondesubgal: dayum
queenkendraxx: gorgeous huh?
biblondesubgal: yes wow
queenkendraxx: I have a pic of his **** too hehe
queenkendraxx: Is Dayquan really built?
biblondesubgal: not like that lol he has abs but his arms arent that big
biblondesubgal: did your man *** you?
queenkendraxx: yes, that is Darius a different studof mine
queenkendraxx: He makes Maddeline blow him--- gorgeous **** huh?
biblondesubgal: yes so big allyssa thanked me for not giving him that big
queenkendraxx: hehe does Allyssaswallow all Dayquan's *****?
queenkendraxx: I wish I could see your pic Kellie, I bet you are so pretty
biblondesubgal: if it doesnt go in his *** and even then sometimes he does
queenkendraxx: he is learning to take it
queenkendraxx: deep in his ***?
biblondesubgal: yes hes gotten 8 in in so far another half inch and we will be ready for thicker lol
queenkendraxx: hehe ever took pics of that and showed ur gfs?
queenkendraxx: lol good *****
biblondesubgal: no i havent thought to do that
queenkendraxx: hehe good idea?
biblondesubgal: i might do that next time lol
queenkendraxx: lol that way he will be your property for life
queenkendraxx: lol he tries to leave you -- you can send them to his friends haha
biblondesubgal: oh he is lol i have him in chastityafter our sessions he goes back in
queenkendraxx: hehe he in permanent chastity
queenkendraxx: lol there is a space in those to *** right?
biblondesubgal: pretty  much ill let him free when hes being fuked or *******
biblondesubgal: yes there is
queenkendraxx: nice, his *** must be gettting nice and loose
queenkendraxx: does he cry when he is being ******?
biblondesubgal: lol not as loose as maddies. he cries like a baby  because he doesnt get fuked easy
queenkendraxx: lol u know Maddie is such a bbc ****
queenkendraxx: you know all about my Maddie, huh?  hehe
biblondesubgal: lol with the *** you showed me she cant be tight lol
queenkendraxx: Do you tell your gfs all about Allyssa?
queenkendraxx: I stuff my ******* in Maddeline's mouth as he is being pounded in his ***** ***
biblondesubgal: no lol ive been thinking bout having a ******* party
queenkendraxx: taking pics
queenkendraxx: or a video of him
queenkendraxx: So you are toned and fit like me Kellie?
biblondesubgal: your tummy looks better but im not to far off
queenkendraxx: one of ur gf's ******* her mouth while the other has her ***
queenkendraxx: you have a great body too
queenkendraxx: how tall are you?
biblondesubgal: im 5'4 you?
queenkendraxx: guess from my pic
biblondesubgal: hard to tell without comparrison. 5'6?
queenkendraxx: ya
queenkendraxx: 5 '5 and a haf lol
biblondesubgal: i was close lol
queenkendraxx: Did you have your first bbc in college?
biblondesubgal: highschool
queenkendraxx: mmm yay me 2 I was 18
biblondesubgal: i was a cheerleader so i got and *** i wanted really lol
biblondesubgal: i was 16
queenkendraxx: hehe bad loved to see
queenkendraxx: how the black studs plowed over
queenkendraxx: the pathetic white guys?
biblondesubgal: what? sry that was confusing
queenkendraxx: well when I went to football games
queenkendraxx: I like to see how the black men tackled
queenkendraxx: the sorry white guys
biblondesubgal: lol i fuked a basketball player
queenkendraxx: lol one time Darius hit another white guy so hard he sent him to the hospital  
queenkendraxx: nice in college?
biblondesubgal: in highschool lol but he went to college on a scholarship
queenkendraxx: nice
queenkendraxx: you a freshman now?
queenkendraxx: or sophmore?
biblondesubgal: im a freshman
queenkendraxx: nice what you study
queenkendraxx: Does Allyssa do well and spoil you?
biblondesubgal: business i want to own my own store like vic secret
queenkendraxx: lol I make Maddeline shop there
biblondesubgal: she doesnt make a ton of money shes a secretary
queenkendraxx: lol a secretary for a woman?
biblondesubgal: yes lol
queenkendraxx: does she wear her ***** *******
queenkendraxx: to work?
biblondesubgal: and cute dresses heels hose wigs makeup
queenkendraxx: lol what?
biblondesubgal: and a chastity belt
queenkendraxx: they let her wear that?
queenkendraxx: not to work lol
biblondesubgal: yes lol its not like slutty but cute
queenkendraxx: do all the women laugh
queenkendraxx: tease her?
biblondesubgal: they think shes actually a girl
queenkendraxx: heheh yayy
queenkendraxx: Do you make her kiss Jayquan's ***?
queenkendraxx: Is she on estrogen?   Maybe you could research that
queenkendraxx: She will grow soft *******
biblondesubgal: daquan lol and yes. i started crushing up estrogen and making it in his food (i sent him out for a second)
queenkendraxx: My Maddeline has such useless little *****--- Does Allyssa have a little ***** sack too?
biblondesubgal: yes it sags and small *****
queenkendraxx: (hehe is she gone)
biblondesubgal: yes i dont want her to know im turning her into my real life barbie  doll
queenkendraxx: One day do you plan to have it removed and be there to watch Kellie?
biblondesubgal: idk lol ive thought anbout it im not sure i can do that to him though
queenkendraxx: lol so cruel
queenkendraxx: a simple snip hehe
biblondesubgal: simple that costs a lot of money lol
queenkendraxx: lol maybe down the road
queenkendraxx: lol I know its cruel but
queenkendraxx: their ***** sacks are so useless
biblondesubgal: hehe hes said how sensitive his ******* are
queenkendraxx: I hate how their ***** goo is so clear and watery
biblondesubgal: why you think i need a black man lol
queenkendraxx: lol u have one
queenkendraxx: lol like me
queenkendraxx: not like you ever have *** with him right?
biblondesubgal: any way you can resend that first pic? it came up blurry.
queenkendraxx: ya
biblondesubgal: lol very rarely
queenkendraxx: I just really wish I could see you Kellie
queenkendraxx: ?
biblondesubgal: idk still blurry
queenkendraxx: you can post it on pic paste if you wanted and choose to show it for just thirty mins
queenkendraxx: and it will be gone
queenkendraxx: Mmky I trust you to keep them private
biblondesubgal: i will miss
queenkendraxx: I don't usually send my pics to people
queenkendraxx: this is Kellie?
queenkendraxx: you can just call me Kendra Kellie
biblondesubgal: yes it is ok lol sry im kinda submissive too
queenkendraxx: hmm its ok
queenkendraxx: can you please put your pic
queenkendraxx: on picpaste?
queenkendraxx: You are submissive to women and bi?
biblondesubgal: ill put one on display is that ok?
biblondesubgal: yes
queenkendraxx: sure, lovely
queenkendraxx: cool I love women too
queenkendraxx: The first time Maddeline was ****** in his ***---I spread his cheeks open
queenkendraxx: It was so hot to see all 9 inches buried deep inside my ***** ****---- it got me so wet
biblondesubgal: mmm i love to watch it go in slowly until its burried
biblondesubgal: you see a pic?
queenkendraxx: My Maddeline is here with me on the bed
queenkendraxx: not yet?
queenkendraxx: try again
biblondesubgal: on display
queenkendraxx: we could be like sisters lol
biblondesubgal: lol yeah?
queenkendraxx: we look similar I think
queenkendraxx: you coud model if you wanted
queenkendraxx: My Maddeline is 5.5 too
queenkendraxx: lol ***** ****
biblondesubgal: hehe thank you i wish lol
queenkendraxx: have a pic of your alyssa?
biblondesubgal: sry i dont
queenkendraxx: its cool
queenkendraxx: wanna see maddeline on display?
biblondesubgal: hehe love to
queenkendraxx: what do you think?
biblondesubgal: i dont see
queenkendraxx: it is
queenkendraxx: on my avatar
queenkendraxx: on the convo window, see now?
biblondesubgal: no accept my friend request
queenkendraxx: ur on my buddy list already hmm
queenkendraxx: should I just put it on photo share?
queenkendraxx: DOn't save her pic ok?
biblondesubgal: i wont save it
queenkendraxx: She told me she is sensitive about people seeing her, I know you won't
queenkendraxx: she wants to know what words come to mind  when you see her face
queenkendraxx: if you think she looks femme
biblondesubgal: yes maam
queenkendraxx: ol Kellie
queenkendraxx: you can be a lil submissive
queenkendraxx: it is cute
biblondesubgal: im sorry lol kendra
queenkendraxx: you are impressed by my gorgeous body, huh?
biblondesubgal: i love it
queenkendraxx: I am Miss Perfect hehe
biblondesubgal: hehe well i cant argue that
queenkendraxx: what do you think of the midde one?
biblondesubgal: looks cute you dont have him in a wig nd makeup do you?
queenkendraxx: no he wears anties though
queenkendraxx: think he would look cute in a wig?
biblondesubgal: hehe you should fully dress hi
queenkendraxx: think he looks femme
queenkendraxx: and radiant?
biblondesubgal: i think with some make  up a wig hes be a very pretty girl
queenkendraxx: yes
queenkendraxx: think he has a femme smile?
biblondesubgal: yes maam
biblondesubgal: shyt kendra
queenkendraxx: lol I have a pic of his ***** **** too
biblondesubgal:
queenkendraxx: Do you have others lovers besidses Jayquan?
queenkendraxx: so you love to shop at victorias secret?
queenkendraxx: what do you usually get there?
biblondesubgal: its daquan lol
queenkendraxx: where did kellie go?
biblondesubgal: i dont shop there often to expensive lol
biblondesubgal: i am kellie lol the man is dauan not jayquan
queenkendraxx: ooh I see
queenkendraxx: lol my bad Dauan
queenkendraxx: lol my bad
queenkendraxx: lol u will laugh when you see Maddeline's ****
biblondesubgal: its ok your cute enough to kmake up for it
queenkendraxx: u2 love your smile
biblondesubgal: awe thank you
queenkendraxx: want to make him your cuck hubby one day?
biblondesubgal: i think hes basically there
queenkendraxx: lol nice
queenkendraxx: maddeline goes to a 35 yr old female therapist
queenkendraxx: and she tells her all about feeling inferior to alpha males
queenkendraxx: and wanting to be a woman, lol
biblondesubgal: hehe you did that to her huh
queenkendraxx: yes she cries
queenkendraxx: in front of the therapist
queenkendraxx: wonerful, huh?
biblondesubgal: you want to get her clittlky a real ******
queenkendraxx: hehe well
queenkendraxx: she has thought of having her ***** sack removed
queenkendraxx: she even told the therapist she said
biblondesubgal: hehe you ruined her that makes me wanna kiss you lol
queenkendraxx: heheh I totally own her
queenkendraxx: beautiful, huh?
biblondesubgal: it is so beautiful. allyssa wants to know if ill let her back
queenkendraxx: hmm maybe in a bit
queenkendraxx: wanna see Maddeline's ****?
biblondesubgal: please miss
queenkendraxx: lol 5.5
queenkendraxx: she said she took it with her ipad
biblondesubgal: its so cute
queenkendraxx: that is why there is a weird angle
queenkendraxx: so small, huh?
biblondesubgal: yes well my girls the same size i  think yours is thicker
queenkendraxx: isy bitsyteenie tiny
queenkendraxx: hehehe
biblondesubgal: hehe can i finger?
queenkendraxx: do you do that to her alot?
biblondesubgal: i dont have one yet i have one on order
queenkendraxx: hehe I do
queenkendraxx: a bbc *******?
biblondesubgal: its black like 10in pretty thick
queenkendraxx: I got her an 8 in brown one too that vibrates
queenkendraxx: mmm will **** her so deep
queenkendraxx: yuuummmmmm I have been with him!
biblondesubgal: vibrates? shoot use that on me
biblondesubgal: wow are you loose? lol
queenkendraxx: lol it was a whil ago but
queenkendraxx: mmm love him
queenkendraxx: ehe you look up to me
queenkendraxx: huh kellie?
biblondesubgal: i couldnt even get that in my mouth
queenkendraxx: how much can you *******?
biblondesubgal: 7.5 in
queenkendraxx: oh mi gosh
queenkendraxx: 7 4 me hehe
queenkendraxx: I sometimes make maddeline practice
queenkendraxx: on bananas
biblondesubgal: hehe that guy almost made me puke
queenkendraxx: when she is not practicing on BBC
queenkendraxx: cause Maddeline is so ugly?
biblondesubgal: i make alyssa practice on my ****** after i use them
biblondesubgal: no lol the guy i deepthroated
queenkendraxx: oh
queenkendraxx: hehe I know they *** soooo much
queenkendraxx: I love it soaking my face
queenkendraxx: yummmmm
queenkendraxx: lol I am making Maddeline practie
queenkendraxx: practice
on her banana now
biblondesubgal: hehe hot my ***** is peaking at me through the droor crack
queenkendraxx: lol *****
queenkendraxx: you two have your own place
queenkendraxx: are you at a college dorm
queenkendraxx: or apartment?
biblondesubgal: apartment
queenkendraxx: I should make Maddeline
queenkendraxx: ******* her banana
queenkendraxx: on cam for you, haha
biblondesubgal: oh my gosh id get so wet
queenkendraxx: let me get her, and you can speak to her for a few mins and she can put on a show
queenkendraxx: would you enjoy that Kellie?
biblondesubgal: i would love that miss kendra
queenkendraxx: I am so wet too
queenkendraxx: I have my little rabbit vibe
biblondesubgal: hehe im just using my fingers
queenkendraxx: she is getting the banana one sec she is coming
biblondesubgal: hehe she a good girl for you
queenkendraxx: Hi Miss Kellie
queenkendraxx: This is Maddeline
queenkendraxx: Should I keep writing in this pink?
biblondesubgal: hey girl you dont have to call me miss
biblondesubgal: yes its a good color for you
queenkendraxx: just Kellie or what?
queenkendraxx: I feel like I am being disrespecful
queenkendraxx: I saw your pic and you are so gorgeous
biblondesubgal: you can call me kellie its ok. thanks i wanna eat your girl out
queenkendraxx: yes my Mistress
queenkendraxx: you love BBC
queenkendraxx: like my mistress?
biblondesubgal: yes are yougoing to show me what youve been practicing with your bananna?
queenkendraxx: uhh yes
queenkendraxx: may I touch my ****
queenkendraxx: as I do it?
biblondesubgal: well ask your mistress
queenkendraxx: she said for this show you can decide for me
biblondesubgal: lets not do it right now
bi
Starry  Aug 2019
Who we are
Starry Aug 2019
Uh, yeah
Another one of those
(This is for my man the 14th
Dalai Lama)
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
What they don't know is
The *******, the drama (uh), the guns, the armor (what!)
The city, the farmer, the babies, the mama (what!)
The ghettos, the drugs (uh!), the children, the soldiers (Uh!)
The tears, the hugs, the love, the slugs (c'mon!)
The funerals, the wakes, the temples, the coffins (uh!)
The heartbroken mothers - it happens too often (why?)
The problems, the things we use to solve 'em (what!)
Mustang, Bhutan (uh!), Kathmandu , ottawa (c'mon!)
The hurt, the pain, the dirt, the rain (uh!)
The ****, the hate, the work, the gain (uh!)
The friends, the foes, the protests, the nazis (what!)
The autopsies, the shows, comes and it goes (c'mon!)
The racism, the envy, the phony, the friendly (uh-huh!)
The one that gave them the slugs, the one that put 'em in me (woo!)
The snakes, the grass too long to see (uh, uh!)
The lawnmower sittin' right next to the tree (c'mon!)
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
What we seeing is
The streets, the chinese, the uiygers, torture (uh-huh)
The options, get shot, go to jail, or getcha *** kicked (a'ight)
The human rights , the part they are of the puzzle (uh-huh)
The release, the warning, "Try not, to get in trouble." (****!)
The bullies, the odds (uh), guantanamo, yakuza (what!)
The new enemy, the prank, the ****, the airports (****!)
The cell, the airport security, the ride down south (uh-huh)
The greens, the boots, camp delta, the dogs  (uh!)
The fightin', the stabbin', the pullin', the grabbin' (what!)
The trade center, nobody knows what happened (what!)
The wars, revenge, the plots (uh!)
The sleep devipravtion, the one hour that's not (uh!)
The silence, the dark, the mind so fragile (a'ight!)
The wish that the streets of lhasa would have took you when they had you (****!)
The days, the months, the years, despair
One night on my knees, here it comes: om mani padme hum
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
This here is all about
My girlfriend, my parents (uh-huh), the life that I live (uh-huh)
Through the night I was his (uh-huh), it was right what I did (uh-huh)
My ups and downs (uh), my slips, my falls (uh)
My trials and tribulations (uh), my heart, my baoudings (uh)
My mother, my father - I love 'em, they annoy me (uh!)
Wish God, I didn't have 'em, but I'm glad that he made 'em (uh!)
The airplanes, the fire, the strays, the cats (what, what!)
The guns, knives and bats, every time we scrap
The hijacking, the kidnapping', the robbin', the stealin' (uh!)
The **** hit the ceilin', little girl with no feelin's (****)
The frustration, rage, trapped inside a cage
The beatings till the age I read (a'ight!)
Somebody stop me (please!), somebody come and get me (what!)
Little did I know that the Lord was ridin' with me
The dark, the light (uh), my heart (uh), the fight (uh)
The wrong (uh!), the right (uh!), it's gone (uh!), a'ight!
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
Brody Blue  Aug 2018
We Shall See
Brody Blue Aug 2018
I woke up this mornin’,
All wound-up, down in the deep,
Laid-back under the haystack half asleep,
When she pulled up
In her Cadillac, uh huh,
And pointed to the two pillows
In the back, uh huh.
But will she get to me?
We shall see.

Out behind the barn
We tore thru the broomcorn plots;
Then up in the loft,
She cut the tops of my bootstraps off;
But she fits the bill
All by herself, uh huh;
All nine-yards on
A five-foot shelf, uh huh.
But will she get to me?
We shall see.

When autumn has rolled
Past the summer’s fold,
If the line goes slack,
If the wheels won’t go,
‘Cause I’ve never cried,
Not when mother died,
Nor this mornin’
When you went away —— ——
Was it then?
Or was it yesterday?

I told her: “It’s not fair!
It despairs the spirit of man,
To give a slave to their fate
Just to pay them to slave on demand!”
Then she said to me
While she was fixin’ her hair, uh huh:
“Some loser’s always tryin’
To make the whole world fair,” uh huh.
But will she get to me?
We shall see.

When autumn has rolled
Past the summer’s fold,
If the line goes slack,
If the wheels won’t go,
‘Cause I’ve never cried,
Not when mother died,
Nor this mornin’
When you went away —— ——
Was it then?
Or was it yesterday?
A song about a stranger
Bo Burnham  Apr 2016
Magic
Bo Burnham Apr 2016
Read this to yourself. Read it silently.
Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound.
Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything.
What a wonderfully weird thing, huh?

NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD!
SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND!
DROWN EVERYTHING OUT.
Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper.

Now, read this next line with your best crochety- old-man voice:
"Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?"
Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that?
It sure wasn't yours!

How do you do that?
How?!
Must be magic.
Dorothy A Oct 2013
Everything faded to black. He had a hard time remembering just what the hell happened. He wasn't sure of downing some random pills from of the medicine cabinet-- his first attempt to end it all. Making sure he would not recover-- if the pills didn't do the job-- he had already devised the set up of the noose in his bedroom. Definitely, he didn't recall anyone cutting the rope, forcing him down to the floor.

Lacie joked with him. "Dude, you've got nine lives! You must really be a ****, fricking cat in disguise! That's why you'll eat those nasty tuna fish sandwiches they serve in the nuthouse! "

Chris grinned at her.  He had to agree. To refer to it as the psych ward at the hospital made it seem like more of a jail term, but calling it "the nuthouse" lightened up the severity of the situation. As grave and nearly tragic as everything  had become, it was kind of laughable to him.  He supposed he had more chances than a cat's fabled life. It all seemed so crazy that it must be funny.

Well, what could he say? He had flirted with death, but unwillingly managed to escape its grip. "Pathetic..."--he commented. "I don't not even know how to die well..."

Chris  eventually realized that he had been rushed to the hospital, but wished it wasn't true. Since then, everything was either a total blur or a bizarre state of mind . Even waking up in his room was like a remotely vague memory, almost like a long ago dream that might not really have happened.

Maybe, he was somewhat aware that his sister was screaming in shock and horror at the sight of him, shouting out downstairs to her boyfriend to help her. But the walls were turning red, a glowing scarlet- red, with an added fiery orange and yellowish-gold-- all joined together in pulsating embers. He was quickly losing consciousness. It was like some, bad acid trip. Not that Chris knew this firsthand, but it sure was like something he saw on TV or at the movies.

And now he was the star of the horror show.

Did he die?  Death was what he planned on, so waking up was not a relief, or a reality back into motion--just the opposite. It was as if being awake was the real nightmare, a delusional time when everything was not true, and was only an scary, offbeat version of the life of Chris Cartier.

The bad acid trip continued. He recalled hospital staff rushing about him, seeming like real people-- sort of. Then they morphed into fish in scrubs. From overhead, an IV was dripping into his arm. Tubes were shoved down his throat. His vital signs were displayed on a screen that made beeps and sounds, increasing the chaos and adding to the mayhem to his mind. Soon, the vital signs machine started talking to him that he was a "very bad boy" and other such scoldings.

He was thoroughly freaked out. If he was still alive, he'd rather be dead.

He wanted to run. One of the fish pushed him back down and muttered out undecipherable utterances-- like underwater gibberish . Then that fish used its slimy fins to inject him with a needle in his arm. The other fish circled around him like fish out of water--with opening and closing mouths-- as if gasping for air.

As they surrounded him as rubber monkeys shot out from the walls and bounced all over the room. On top of all this madness, the florescent lights above were flickering on and off, in sync to the wild music, like the drum beats of a distant jungle. It was one bizarre tangle of events, a freaky, crazy, out-of-control ride in which reality could not be distinguished from the animation and mass confusion. It was one overpowering ride that he would much rather forget.

When Chris got out of critical condition, he found out that he could still not go home. That would take a few weeks more. Dr. What-The-Hell's-His-Name assured him that he needed to start on the path to his psychological healing--just as grave as the physical--right here in a safe place.

It didn't seem so safe to him.

The enemy wasn't what was out there in the world, but the big, bad wolf was actually him. He had to be protected from the true culprit--himself-- and that was a mind-blowing concept. Just what did he get himself into?   

He never had been a patient in a hospital before. In all his twenty-six years, he didn't so much as even have his tonsils out. Feeling now like a prisoner,, he was still scared out of his mind-- as if it was day one all over again. When was he going to get out of here? Chris began to fear that they would never let him out. No professional had a definitive answer, as only time would tell of his improvement.

Man, why couldn't he just be dead?

His parents visited almost everyday, but it was of no reassurance to him. His mother always left in tears, and his father was lost for words. This was nothing new. When it concerned their troubled son, they felt inadequate to help him. The best his dad could say was, "Hey, Chris, we're pullin' for ya". That was of no comfort, whatsoever, like he was some fighter in a boxing ring that his old man had a bet placed on . His mom always clung to him as she said goodbye, like she needed the hug more than he did, saying to Chris through her sobs , "Miss you....love you". Her emotional state just unsettled him to the core, and he was worried for her more than for himself.    

At best, his outlook was grim. But then he met Lacie Weiss, and things started looking up.

Lacie was one of the quietest psych patients in the ward, always sticking to herself. But then he found himself sitting right next to her in group therapy, and they hit it off. He had no idea that she had a fun side. She usually looked apathetic and quietly defiant to society, a nonconformist in the form of a Goth, with edgy, dyed black hair, dark eye make-up and some ****** piercings of the eyebrow, tongue and nose. Her look was quite in contrast to his light blue eyes and sandy-brown hair. Chris never was into Gothic, viewing those who were as spooky creeps.  

It was obvious that Chris was scared and confused. Now although trying to seem tough and stoic, Lacie seemed so little, almost fragile, yet obviously trying to hide her broken self together. Petite and somewhat girlish in appearance, she was barely 5 feet tall. Chris was 5 feet 11 and a half inches, close enough to the six foot stature that he wanted to be. Only a half inch less really didn't cut it for him, though, even though his slim build gave the impression of a lankier guy. He would have loved to be as tall as the basketball players he so emulated. But such was life. He was never used to having the advantages.  

At first, Lacie never opened up, not to a single soul. Like Chris, she certainly acted like she didn't need this place, and nobody was going to help her--or be allowed to help her. As stony and impenetrable as she tried to be, group therapy it was hard to disappear in. Everyone was held accountable for opening up, and the leader was going to see to it.  No way, though, did Lacie want to crack or look weak in her turtle shell composure, in her self-preservation mode. So it was agony for her.

She first spoke to him, whispering loudly to him, onc,e in the group circle "This is all *******!"

Hanging with Chris was the one salvation that she had in this miserable experience. They both could relate more than he ever realized. They both really liked motorcycles and basketball. He had his own Harley, and it was something he loved to work on and go on long rides with it, his own brand of therapy.  In spite of how she looked, Lacie was also actually close to his age. He was twenty-six. and she was twenty-two.

They first broke the ice with casual introductions. "No, the name is not pronounced like Carter", he corrected her about his last name. "It is like Cart-EE-AY...... It's French".

"Yep", she replied. "Like mine is the same way, but as German as brats and sauerkraut,  Ja dummkopf?"

Chris gave her a weird look. She continued, "My mom's dad was from Germany, and I got my mom's name. Ya don't say it how it looks. You would say Weiss like Vice, but I couldn't give a **** how anybody says it. Nobody gets it right and original, anyhow." Her dark brown eyes flashed at him as she said, " But I think I like Chris Cutie, myself, better than Cartier.....cutie it is for me. Huh, cutie pie? "

Chris laughed hard. She was pretty coy for a die-hard Goth. She batted her eyes playfully at him and winked."You're worth being in here for, ya know", he told her, blushing, still laughing at her silly remarks.

She studied his face in response, all laughing aside. Suddenly, her mood turned solemn.  "I'll bet".

They began hanging out in the commons, walking down the halls for exercise, and swapping stories of their plights. Chris quickly found that she Lacie wasn't so steely and unapproachable as the day he first saw her.  And she discovered that he was more than a pretty boy.

"My parents weren't home when I tried", he told her one time after lunch was done. They were sitting in a corner, trying to be as private as possible. "Twenty-six years old...and I still live with them. Yeah, that's my life. I got a twin brother, and he's moved out and doing alright for himself. My sister's younger, is going to college. Wants to be a doctor".

Lacy didn't have any siblings to compare herself to. "Must be cool to have a twin", Lacie said. "I always wondered how that would be to have two of me running around! Scary, huh, dude?"

Chris shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that. Jake and I aren't identical. We are just a two-for-one deal...I mean  is that my parents got two babies in one, huge-*** pregnancy. Jake and me don't even act like twins. Half the time, I don't want to be around him."

No, it wasn't like his cousins, Adam and Alan, who were identical friends, mirror images, and best of friends. Chris never identified with that kind of brotherly relationship. He and Jake never dressed alike, or knew what the other one was thinking. And Chris felt that his brother always felt superior to him. He was the popular one. He was the ambitious one who landed a great job in computers, as a system analyst.  To add to Chris's feelings of inferiority, his little sister, Kate, had surpassed him, too. She was acing most of her classes, and boarding away at college. She was well on her way to becoming a doctor.    

"So if your mom and dad weren't around...who saved you?" Lacie asked. She stared into his eyes with such a probing stare that Chris almost clammed up. Just thinking about that day was overpowering.

"Uh...my sister and her boyfriend were hanging out in the basement. She was home from college, and I didn't know it. My parents were out-of-town. Our dog, Buster, was acting funny. He knew something was up..."

Chris stopped abruptly, but went on. "Kate, my sister, explained to me that she saw me in my room, getting up on a step ladder. She says she yelled at me to stop. I don't remember...but I guess..I guess I was going to do it anyway, and she wouldn't be able to stop me....stop me from...so I hurried up and jumped off before she could stop me."  

Lacie could almost picture it, as if she was there with him. She said, "But she did stop it. She saved you."

"Yeah", he agreed. "Buster started it all...barking, alerting my sister to come upstairs from the basement, and upstairs by my room...." All of a sudden, he felt so weird, like he was having an out-of-body experience.

"Hey, it's OK", Lacie reassured him. "It's over now. You aren't there anymore".

Chris started to cry, but tried not to. "If it weren't for Brian, Kate's boyfriend....she would not of had the strength to hold me up by herself, and cut the rope, too. I must have been like dead weight, and Brian grabbed a kitchen knife and told her to stay cool about it. Yeah, sure, like that could have been possible ! She was trying to keep the rope slack, while trying to save my sorry ****...and she was scared, shitless! "

Lacie opened up, too, relating her tragic past. She had an unbelievable tale, one hell of a ride herself.  It was amazing how detached she was when relating it, though. "Well" actually I got to fess up" "I'm not really an only child....I mean I am...but not really. I know that sounds weird---hey--but I am weird. Oddly unusual is the story of my life-- even before day one. "

Chris had no idea what she was talking about. "What are ya' trying to say?"

She added another surprising bombshell. "Also,  I have a two-year-old boy. His name is Danny. He don't see his dad--ever. The guy's a waste of space. Anyway, my mom has him. She can afford him more, and can do a better job raising him than me. Well, she does OK money-wise. Anyhow, my mom deserves him because she lost everything. And I mean EVERYTHING! Her whole fricking family practically wiped out!"

The shock that Chris had on his face-- his widened, blue eyes and open mouth were expected.   Most people had a hard time believing her.

She explained, calmly, "I mean she nearly died--way before I was born--in a car accident. And her two, little boys were with her in the backseat...and they died that day. "

Chris looked pale. "That is so awful!" he said, hoarsely, barely able to say it.

"Yeah", she continued. "Not a **** thing she could do about it, too. She was like in a million pieces. I know a part of her died right there and then, too. I just know it.  You know, dude, my mom was once really, really coasting along, just doing fine. A typical wife and mother-- a bit older than me now-- life was good. Her little boys were just cute, little toddlers--like Danny. I found out from my grandma that she was  pregnant, too, just a month or two. Nobody could have imagined it coming. She was just driving--doing nothing wrong-- when some idiot broadsided her.  I don't know if it was a guy or a lady, if they were jacked up on ***** or drugs, but they were speeding like a demon out of Hell. Her husband was at work and wasn't around."  

The boys were Benjamin and Gerard, but Lacie couldn't remember their names, for her mom could barely mention them without breaking down. It was an unbearable loss.

Chris was so horrified, amazed that Lacie related this like it was someone else's story. She was almost too cavalier about it.

"And they died ?!" he asked.

"Yeah....*****, don't it? Pure, pure agony. Downright Hell on earth. My mom had to learn to walk again. It took about year, I think."

"Oh, no! What about the baby she was supposed to have?"

"Miscarriage. Worse yet, the **** doctor told her she'd never be able to have kids again. She lost everything, man! Her husband couldn't handle it and left her. **** on top of ****, on top of more ****, on top of more. If it wasn't for her parents, and her sister's help, she would never have made it.

"But she had given birth to you, right? Or were you adopted?"

"Yeah, she gave birth to me. I was her miracle baby, and she didn't give a rat's rear end if my dad wanted me or not. He'd send her money, once in a while, but he wasn't really into either of us. Who cares though? She didn't give a **** what he thought. I was her baby. Truth is, before I came, she ended up slitting her wrists--just like me. What was the use? At first, there was nothing to live for. But now she has Danny.

"And you!" Chris quickly pointed out.

"Dude, are you kidding me? I have been NOTHING but grief for her, a real pain in her ***!"

Unlike her deceased, half-brothers, Lacie grew up before her mother's eyes, from a shy girl to a ******* rebel. Since the age of twelve, she would sneak drinks from her mom's liqueur cabinet. Eventually, she smoked *** and tried ******* and ******. Dropping out of the eleventh grade, she soon away from home, living with friends or boyfriends ever since.  Thankfully, she wasn't doing drugs when she conceived Danny. And her drinking wasn't as prevalent as it was in her teen years of partying and binge drinking. That didn't mean that her drinking problems magically disappeared, or that she was cured. Immediately, though, when she knew she was pregnant, she refused to touch a bottle, but it was just a white knuckle process that was effective momentarily--a band aid on a more serious wound. And going months without a drop of alcohol didn't deaden her urges--quite the opposite--as it only made her crave what she could not have. Often, her fears caught up with her--of especially becoming
****** and ******* ain't **** let's play house...


Huh its so many ****** and ******* claimin'
They real
When they only showing out for mass
Appeal
I'm a gangstarr cuz all eyes are on me look at
The insanity
Fools claim they livin' it when they fakin'
It
See the demons chillin' in the snake
Pits
The hardest to hit none above me so keep on
Talkin' ****
Advance my haters to an early grave make
'Em my slaves
Treat em worse than Pharoah my rod and staff
Shall conquer
****** and ******* tryna diss me subliminally but they ain't  stopin' me
Or droppin' me with so many phonies switchin' up
Personalities
I'm addin' Talleys from another fatality huh I'm
War veteran
So keep on talkin' got all these *******
Walkin'
Feel my shadow of death I see the colds from ya
Breath
Ya casket bound soon to drown and get
Pound
Fake folks all around say they about unity but
I feel ya anger enraged
Suckas mad cuz my mind ain't caged and
Staged
Plays of drama word to my mama most ****** on
Her livin' they life in
fear
Say the same **** different day which results
That make no pays
My own people worse than them pale devils I'm
A warrior and a rebel
So come on let the games begin bring on the
Sins
Showin' out too hard for pain I see you getting
Migraines
But y'all ****** ain't ready for my war games so
******* fake ****** and dames cuz real folks
Ain't the same huh





Now that I've been crucified I turned
To the dark side
My melanin hide ain't got **** but my
Pride
Fake ****** fear me mad cuz I
weakened their energy
Circling around me I see a ****** of
Crows
Visions of me chained by own
People
Death row feel the depths of hell
Below
Embraced by the revolutionaries
principles
Labelled an animal I'm a terrorist cynnical
Makin' miracles
Once the pen and pad touches my hand I
Form a band
Of legions see these ****** barely breathin'
And reachin'
Out no doubt let the gun muzzle rest on their
Snout
Lord forgive 'em for they know not what they
Do
Still give em ghetto blues soon to snooze you
Lose
Huh Everytime ya try step into my sward from the
SP to the Third ward
I was born hard from fake friends to family
Y'all ******* cant ****
With me
Too many tattoo tears shed I'm.feelin' like what
Pac said
Say real **** on the streets ****** iz gunnin'
Bullets at ya head!!!??



#fakeconsciousness #allafad #foolstillwithaslavementality #stillinthesestreetz
#fakefolksalwaysthefirstoclaimtheyreal
#muth­afuckazwannaseemeinmycasket

Just like Pac said "my own people turned on
me I'm tryna reach & stand for
my people
but my own people
put a bullet in
me" (echoes)
This is a special dedication to a fake conscious sista you a joke loc
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
apologies, but i will not be abstracting people
as mere pronoun users,
i know i should, but i kinda like "painting"
and giving peoeple race, and differences,
i can't really establish what pronoun-bleaching
would do to, oh i don't know,
perhaps i'd be writing this...

back when i still worked as a roofer and was doing
a project in Greenwich,
  nice try, construction industry men don't
go to the gym... what a joy to remember my roots...
anyway...
    what was i saying?
   so i commuted from north east london
this this little village...
and it really has a feel about it that it is a village...
i went into the Greenwich waterstones
bookshop and spotted something interesting...
    a j. k. huysmans trilogy (beginning with la bas)
and ending with *cathedral
, or something like that,
if i knew what the internet was saying,
i'd buy all three books...
     but i did the dumb thing of buying
the first book of the trilogy, that's always in print...
anyway, no small loss...
   and there stood sideways joseph roth's
the antichrist...
              i can't compare it to nietzsche work,
even though i should, given roth was jewish...
and i figured: if the concept is not originally
jewish and greek, and anti- is a prefix much
more easily understood these days with
the existence of anti-matter...
            than say... armilus...
    well... so i was commuting day to day,
and over the course of the project probably read
two of three books, roth's was one of them,
alongside nikos kazantzakis' blockbuster...
but something weird happened when i read roth
for the first time...
     sitting in this dockland train heading south
of the thames, a group of muslim "women"
spotted that i was literate,
     they sat, about 10 metres away from me...
but the word antichrist must have prompted them,
one just said out-loud: you're satan's *****...
huh?
   there i am, reading my own book not raving
mad reading it aloud, and there she has the prank
of associating a book to a very mysterious person
who riddles the bible being completed...
      mein gott: two world wars ever since nietzsche
wrote he was the person with the title kept
sorta on a whim for nearly 2000 years...
     and then two days ago my father has a car accident
and this hijab clad woman is driving,
  but she does a Pilate and doesn't take responsibility,
the passenger that's with her jumps out
   and gives my father his details
and the woman is pristine...
     a *******, what do you call it: sacred cow?
most pedestrians in england are treated as such...
  so she phones her son and gives the phone to my father
and her son says to my father: it's against
the law to phone the police, you can't phone them...
well... hey presto! we're in Saudi Arabia!
and this is what's worrying me...
no... nope... this is what pains me...
    i had to take my ego for a walk tonight...
i had to think a lot of ******* out,
how the ego would whimper and whine like a dog...
there's your "janus" / "contronym"...
ego... dog...
   the leash? i'm thinking with it...
and suddenly, clarifty, i can pierce it's *******
narrative and think about it... as any id might...
what i experienced was an ego-dispossesion...
   i lost it, it turned into an automaton,
robotic misery... hardly the angry Frankenstein monster...
i lost the care for an ego-embodiment...
i was dispossessed by it, robbed, thief! thief!
i needed to come back home and read
heidegger's aphorisms 174 through to 178 from
the ponderings (it would help that you read the
ponderings... after reading being & time)...
the pain i felt was very much akin to being British,
even though it's something i assimilated into...
which could mean that's it's the odd bit...
should i, shouldn't i feel some sentiment for my host
culture?
word are flying around the place,
they're calling it cultural marxism...
well... i come from a culture that had stated
marxism, period, i.e. supported by an economic model,
that worked, and would have worked,
had capitalism not done what capitalism does
naturally: compete!
   i'm watching these cultural marxists and, i think,
i'm watching penguins in a zoo...
  i don't know what to make of these marxists,
who aren't even leninists...
            where's the economic model?!
  
that's the problem of going to a catholic school
in england, attempting to stress multi-culturalism,
i even ojected to being confirmed ritually,
with a bishop from Brentwood,
sorry, too much Irish around the place....
i too thought i was about to say something in Gaelic...
outer-east london: a complete ******* jungle
of biodiversity...
     so did i misplace my allegiences?
to the tongue? to faking an ethnicity?
    of course i'm pisssed off, i spent the past 2 hours
walking the most mundane of walks,
bewildered why this woman in a hijab wouldn't
own up to causing a traffic accident...
i helped him will out the police forms,
and there she is, on paper, smug like some ****** mary
because i'm the one that really doesn't think
that Islam got Project Hair wrong,
me? personally? i think that woman's hands ought to
be covered,
     in thinking terms, a woman's hands could
get me more excited than a woman's foot...
but sure... hell... why not hair?!
              the last time i checked, normal people
have an aversion toward hair...
ever see that person almost vomiting when they found
a stranger's hair in their soup?
  that **** that grows on your hair is the only silk
you've got... how about a few toenail clippings
to boot? first thing a sane would think: ****! ****!
oh, we're going to get on... just fine, just fine...
   the next time i think about encouraging
an **** ******* position's worth of prayer
i'll be a ******* cardinal.
   what's wrong with taking responsibility?
why are Islamic women so immune to the tractātus
of law? where's the jurisprudence?
   i'd call it something more than diabolical...
you can really become a vampire when you're told
the lesson: those that thirst for justice...
  lesser leech...
            who gives a **** whether it was: "but a scratch"?
woman! take responsibility!
  pampered little coconut jugglers...
   now to think of it... leave those curtains,
and this one time: she was walking with a buggy
and a small child and she unveiled herself from
a niqab before me...
           the perfect arabian nightmare i could
have ever witnessed...
             i had long hair back then...
what she revealed from under that niqab?
wait... am i writing this in the times
when the French occupied the Holy Land and had
the first thirst / idea of a colony?
  
this is me, imitating punching a brick wall...
this is me... in a boxing ring...
bashing myself...
            this is me thinking about how man
has no capacity to usher in karma,
how man's concept of law is hardly cosmic,
how man is a kniving ******* that
deserves something beyond a heaven and a hell:
rather: a return to his self...
that's what i keep telling myself:
i don't want heaven, i don't want hell...
i, just, want, to, return, to, my, self...
    yes, that's a reflection,
hence the pronoun has no compound, i.e. isn't
a reflexive understanding for the fluidity of language
expressed by the concerning compound: myself.
perhaps that's just the beginning of understanding
the noumenon / thing in itself, or rather to counter
the fluidity of the word itself, since, evidently
it self makes no sense that could ever produce
a concept akin to the noumenon...

why wouldn't this woman care to give an inkling into
her concept of right and wrong...
she's driving the ******* car, she makes a doo doo...
pauper... **** up!
            i still don't know why it was about hair...
you like a stranger's **** in a soup?
   what's with this middle eastern fetish for covering it?
hey! beginning from 1986, am i sorta automatically
involved in a cult that has a vintage of ageing from
a **** of a camel a long time ago?
  no wonder the knighthood ceremony was initiated
by slapping a newly initiated knight across the cheek,
like i said, a woman's hand is more ******
than her hair...
      i'd say: take up ye care to don gloves!
and that, i'm sure, will never happen.

it's probably the most delicate thing a woman can possess...
a hand...
the rest is what darwinism cared to provide us with:
a black widow, a mantis;
and that's talking pure earnest about the matter...

listen, i spent the past two hours having the ordeal of
an ego... which i had to anti-narrate into theory...
yes, the id was helpful, is actually told me, or rather,
interrupted the ego from the narrative
to give me this *******'s worth of profanity
(and yes, with due reason; ever fill out a police form
concerning some accident? do that, then you'll be equipped
to read Tolstoy)...

so it was ego-possessiveness,
      the ego already thinks its eternally subject...
that's one of the implants...
eternity and god are inherent in ego,
   your heart means absolutely nothing when the ego
has been given certainity that it can't shake off...
what the ego isn't given is a unit of reason
that sees past it... the id...
in relation to dualism and the much active dichotomy
as alternative to an equilibrium of dualism
i will outrightly exclude the superego
  as nothing but antithesis to the ubermann theory
of overcoming man...
  and on their shoulder they once had
the epitomes of cartoon conscience, an angel and a demon...
but thanks to the superego: they had mama
on their left shoulder, and papa on their right shoulder...

just the mere act of shutting that thing up
was enough, and it was apparent,
that writing fiction could be to blame,
   writing fiction can be rightly guessed at
for levitating a condition of medical proportion
into the realm of mythology,
    we have already depersonalised the unit
of ego to the extent that it has become polarised,
bipolar, e.g., comes from a depersonalised
gravity of ego,
we're no longer in need to write books,
we're in a dire need to write our own psyches...
and it all stems from making the basic human unit,
bound to the privacy of thought,
as needing a system that outweighs the moral
stratum,
           what can a person actually be or become
to even dream about asserting that there is
a da-sein (i.e. something, somethingness)
          "happening"?
i feel that there's something worse than a second
nakedness emerging,
         it's this incapacity to move on,
it's a mental nakedness, i am more easily prone
to dress my body in clothes
than i am able to dress my ego in thoughts,
than can correlate adequately, and peacefully...
toward something akin to a symbiosis
that can reach a = status, rather than an
   ≠ or an ≈ status... ****! Aquarius!
isn't the ≈ symbol the basis for it?
oh hell, back into the zodiac...
              
     i know my ego can be a downer,
but at least that's who i am talking about...
aphorisms no. 174 through to 178?
i do odd experiments with books,
     this is the first of its kind,
i'm actually going to rattle-******* this book out
till it feels like having wanked it 20 times
in a single day... i'll write what i "feel",
funny word, that word feel...
you never get to use it these days,
man is more about hammering in nails than
saying: ooh... that hurts...
and we all know what happened to Jesus'
teaching... forgive strangers...
     make sure your former friends are
crucified up-side down...
                 that really went far...
                      i can just see him...
an oasis of bullet-proof clauses...
              about how to handle people...
give them l.s.d. unconsciously!
         then wait for actual l.s.d. to arrive
and then worry...
when they took to their Swiss bicycles...
and writing poetry... and eating a soft-boiled
egg... given the concern for cholesterol:
a hard concept to fathom: that runny yoke...
     never ate mine with salt, i always like
that idea of legalised abortion...
                and we can be just that...
so imaginative to consolidate being mammal
that we can fathom eating chicken eggs
as easily as abortions... runny yokes have no basis
for a morality, or a compass...
they just are... runny... yummy...
             i call yokes the male version of
a woman's fascination with chocolate...
  i think egg yokes are the equivalent of cholocate
for men as chocolate is for women...
or so the advert said...

aphorism 174: as language...

          aphorism 175:
              philosophy catching up to science,
akin to theology catching up to philosophy,
both condescending extracts
that end up with both of the extreme parties
dressing up funny.

aphorism 176: such that newspapers are
the natural preservers? i.e. the idea of historical
escapism.

      (toilet paper does, much much more,
than a newspaper actually provides,
   press freedom is a bit boring to be honest,
beginning with the need for a moral agent
that's less and less moral, and more prone to
darwinism, i.e. selective, which is also said via:
what's natural, in a more and more techno-savvy culture?)

aphorism 177: only as, a rural thinker unto
a rural thinker... a case of describing a perfume
of those thinking about a day after tomorrow,
   but more precisely:
  the day before yesterday that didn't involve them...
say, on the ethnicity basis,
  the talk of being inheriting from the form
of ancestry... how we cultivate cucumbers,
tomatoes, prejudices...
   which is why i'm a slav happily talking a tongue
that's germanic, an off-shoot saxon,
and hopefuly defending it.

aphorism 178:
         "everything great wavers and wobbles,
stands in a storm. the beautiful is difficult."
   Ezra too, with the last, alas.
     but it's true... what happened in england in the second
part of the 20th century was great,
  and it did indeed wobble past the storm into
a desert of retirement...
            a peaceful coming toward terms of
a natural agreement...
   the generation preceding mine enshrined in their
psyche an england they heard over the radio...
king crimson... all such artistic expressions
found a case to take root...
     how parasites never attack a feeble creature
and only take roost in a strong symbiotic partner...
once it was said england could resemble ancient greece,
and it did, from the second part of the 20th century...
but that ended...
               it's gone, i have inherited a communist
past, a marxism with a concept of money,
and economic policy that wasn't inherently competitive,
but it also wasn't a welfare policy of the Marshall Plan,
and all i get is this freakish counter-movement
known as marxism in culture...
   that's worse than marxism in economy!

it should be heartbreaking to say this,
but coming from a monochromatic society,
watching the death of communism...
     i could say it was perfect... but then i can't
given my grandparents have a secure pension plan
that the state provides... i like that joke,
i just said it, and it makes perfect sense...
there is much more of Pilate in the history
of the peoples than there is of Jesus...
washing my hands clean, the companies said,
meaning self-employment...
     unless you have a really hungry libido
you actually do start worrying about keeping up
the numbers...
  companies don't...
      it's a bit of a bollocking...
i come from what could be imagined as a safety
economics of marxism into a marxism of culture
that i simply can't comprehend...
              well: it did give "us" a sense of pride,
and a will to rebuild warsaw without any american
money...
        the russians just said: where's your pride?
do you want to take their money and have it easy?
and when i ask that question:
i just start thinking about arabs without their oily diapers...
oil diaper... not exactly black gold:
oil diapers...
             Ahmed gonna poo poo?
              &nbsp

— The End —