I would like to be home by midnight.

She paused, no longer so sure about the fit
of that crystal slipper on my hairy foot.

Not to worry, my dear. Just make sure to close
the closet door when you leave.

Surely these surly bits
Must be burrs caught up in my
Makeup -

Making up reasons for
Why my spit was accidental.

I done been through a
Rough patch or two -
Crawling with these
Thorns in my knees
Across funky plateaus
That poke their chests out
In their scouts
For sunnier flora.

Though,
I assume their search
Didn't go over so well.

'cause these scabbings won't heal
Like I want them to,
Buried under gobs of
Ointment
That was supposed to take care of it

(And
One more bandage
Just in case).

I'm just moseying on through,
With my feelers out,
Making sure you're someone
I have to know.

In and on my way
Somewhere
In this crazy field,
Waiting for sunflowers
To bless my prayers
While I continue to
Make room for myself to
Slip past
Without being noticed.

I'm smiling so hard
To keep the soft-hearted
At bay -
Trying to avoid being forced
Into pinpoint relations
With clueless drifters
Who refuse to stay on their side.

They only mean well -
I know this,
I do.

But, the simple has yet to escape me.

Send your
Sympathies
To the weak ones,

Roleplaying
Alongside the meek,

For these are the creed
Who,
Without giving heed,

Deliver their lives
To bliss.

well, it would really become a problem...
if i were still jerking off and had a girlfriend / wife...
the ladies are looking for ultra-violent ****,
it's just a tease off ***** -
there's choking there's *******:
oddly enough... no yo-yo of Watergate?
me... i'm not willing to be shamed...
i still have my ******* -
she can have her webcam e-thot or whatever
the hell the internet **** is: memes my ***...
once upon a time it was merely called graffiti...
i don't see how darwinism can make
a 2nd coming resurgence in the 21st century...
fine... when it first came out at the end
of the 19th century: and opened the floodgates
for the 20th... and thanks to the physicists...
lasso! rein 'em in! rein 'em in:
for the fireplace and the ******* kumbaya...
the girls are looking and having finally decided
on an spanish omelette: but not a french ****
quiche... eggs and more eggs...
while i'm strapped to ******* one genocide
after another into the tissue and
flushing it down as: meat for the crocodiles
and tapeworms pretending they know how
play the parasite attaching themselves
to a white all white: white even if you're copper
skinned, cinnamon, hot choc or...
it's still a white tadpole racer...
i usually get off on looking at some xenia wood
cleavage...
it helps to tell apart the *** cleavage and
the breast cleavage...
i moved from: ******* snaps and started peering
at: when a woman pretends to perform
the lotus on a man's face...
and there's like... a floral pattern involved
with gulping oysters...
have i ever licked an ***-hole?
oh my... have i...
**** - *** 1-on-1... doom... 1st person shooters...
never the 3rd person ghost moving
the body...
am i missing something? the girls are
looking for extreme ***... i'm looking for
cleavage and teddy bears -
and the borderline before the whole body
exfoliates and what not...
as marquis de sade said: it's hardly something
i can control when i have a hard-on
almost 4 times during the day...
if i had a girlfriend... if would be crass to:
sly one in...
but... *******... no woman no cry...
it would be truly sad if i was in a relationship
and still up to the shambles of: not up to any
or the odd sort of good -
there's always this shared approach -
the wants and willingness needs to by made
synch. - they need to be a woman and a man:
polyphony - orchestra!
why write about ***? oh hell...
watch me write anything else -
my linguistic infatuations - *** and all manner
or picked ******* sells -
or... at a catholic school they would still teach
you about the perils of sniffing glue -
apparently the 1960s never happened -
no l.s.d. was ever dropped -
the pints of guinness were drank -
the cement was poured as the muscle to
the iron rod skeletons...

and when i finally achieved a beard worthy
of a post-25 year old - when the full
bush sr. happens - i forgot to curate
a body for: the objective safety of being watched...
or how the hell you word:
prior to the beard i focused on the face
and later the body...
and long hair...
once the beard arrived...
**** it... let's take to donning the Elijah
look... the beard comes way way ahead
of the nose - and now i'm still looking
for my neck -

it's *** it's only spectacular about once...
i've had that once spectacular -
i even got a tattoo -
oh... not me... i'm the dragon alien curl...
where my scar is...
on her right shoulder-blade...
and that's not even as if i branded her
myself...
she was going to fit me out with
dreadlocks and a tattoo of her totem at
the time - a scorpion -
thankfully i read about all this crap
in high school...
nick hornby's high fidelity -

it's still a very musical affair...
i remember what love at first sight looks
like to a fresh 17 year old
novosibirsk girl... siberian girl...
all the way west in edinburgh...
she gobbled the iPod and the playlist...
a near complete oeuvre of iron maiden...
and the odd songs...
while i was correcting two girls attempting
to make pancakes...
girls! you need to put some oil into the dough...
this is dough you'd make a sponge cake with...
so the story goes...

but *** was only spectacular once...
the rest of the time i think i was minding an itch...
even these days...
among... aha! that nag hammadi word:
in the Barbelo - the brothel -
no: i will not study the etymology -
in the brothel nothing spectacular ever happens -
you chance upon a ***** -
you're asked whether you want to use it -
you decline -
to play judas with the lips -
you pay an extra ten quid for you-feeding-the-oyster
suckling and all other leech comparison of oral...
ventures...
it's done - the mirrors are witnesses...
the lights are dimmed - two beached whales
on the shore of a bed of crisp linen -
and no one-night-stand
cocoon *** *******!
how do people stand these cocoon ***:
under the bed-sheets moments?!

because it would be really harsh to have a girlfriend...
and still have to *******...
at least without a girlfriend i can solve
the mystery of the throne of thrones -
no. 1 no. 2 and no. 3 -
then a quick baptism in the shower -
i sometimes found that doing the no. 3
helps with a constipation
of a no. 2 on: the throne of thrones...

- and as someone who discovered *******
before he could produce ***** -
well - the ******* is a "side project" -

because this world already needs no more
puritanical quips -
all this ******* stigmata looms over
the circumcised men -
but of course it would - why wouldn't it?
can you scratch your nose
if you cut-off the "un-necessary" rubicon /
cartilege?

would a balding scalp Adam ever scratch his
head - quiver - i thought that only stubble
and hair prompted one to scratch one's skin?
if i see a bald man scratching his head:
i'll let you know!

the plague of circumcised men's stigmata -
and if i had a girlfriend and she wasn't
"up to speed" like me: quasi marquis de sade
"might expect"...
**** me... even Chikatilo "fathered" children...
so much for "excuses": 2 to be exact!
nominee for bachelor of the year...
205th year (circa) coming:
Kant - the prussian watchmaker in
a coming of: calculating the promenade of
excuses - no famously i didn't / wouldn't
marry -

if you asked what i used to do
on those warm spring nights...
back in ol' satellite of the former u.s.s.r. -
and that... we entertained ourselves...
catching cockchafer beetle and catching girls
and tugging at their t-shirts and throwing
them in...
we: used to that sort of thing...
what better reason to drink seeing
the youth of today:
as a seemingly old dounding man:
well... in your 30s you sort of hit that zenith
of mortality's vitality on offer -
as much as technology is celebrated -
its change - it's impetus -

what's that... quote?
when an unstoppable force (technology) meets
an immovable object (ontology) -
or at least: i find man's ontology
to be forever played and plagued
by a priori "prepositions": genes -
and technolgoy is forever the a posteriori
counter-fact: of what much later...
much much later... in limbo land of history
becomes an: artifact escaping archeology...
now are we all not wishing
for some variation of closure?

memes: represented as genes?
really? i see them nothing but a cheap south-paw
jab's worth of the otherwise obvious:
graffiti (representation)...

girls are really searching for violent *** -
having **** fantasies?
my my - and here i was looking
for a xenia wood cleavage and some Bronzino:
you never have curbed your pornographic
enthuasiasm: if you never ******
off at...
mein gott! it's a meme!
1st comes god's index finger touching
adam's index finger in:
michelangelo's fresco of the creation of adam...
but the higher 2nd?
venus' tongue teasing the tongue
of cupid in Bronzino's cupid, folly and time...

i ****** off to that painting -
it's hard to stop a boy who knew how to:
prior to the kippah-guilt tripping:
no minus the ******* into early teenagehood...
i don't think i have yet to have dumped
the proper load on this: exercise - just yet...

oh the shame:
thankfuly this is england and no h'america -
and jesus is not the queen or king -
ol' lizzie is still playing poker and...
the constitution is and what i will not become
is this "vox populis" of a people
disaffected as to why the tax goes into the
pomp & circumstance and none of it:
thank god! ever goes into sense & sensibility
akin to the consort Middleton family;
that's highly replica prone...
blue-bloods... love them or hate them...
at least you can sight them as
almost unchanging -
sphynx head while the body changes
from male to female - but the sphynx is still there...

of an erectile-dysfunction: i would most certainly
hear if i had a girlfriend...
as it happened - the "free women"
always gave me a limp...
in the brothel i was there and she was there -
and i was she and she was i
and we weren't bothered about
counting two transgender sheep
of the nag hammadi library -

even on those one-night stands:
erectile-dysfunction - dim lights two beached
whales on the bedsheets i could stomach...
in a brothel...
but then she took me home
like some morrissey wallow and...
it was all about cocoon ***...
i've heard that temperature changes
the *** of frogs upon insemination...
cocoon *** under the bedsheets...
i stopped going out...

it's might almost sound like boasting:
believe me... it's disgruntled sarcastic... the overtone
to these words...
even i tried teasing a fetish with
latex lucy - but... then i thought about...
if you start wearing the same clotches
for god knows how long -
like an imitation of dog's hair...
you'd wish to squish into something
less pardonable / expected like a full gimp
imitation of lizard latex...
but violence an ****?

maybe that's why i started to tease
1970s italian classics...
dubbing from belgium and amsterdam
and all that...
but always after the torso cleavage -
always after the Om-onomatopeia look of
absent eyes and boiling tongues in a gurgle...
the contorted final stages of the face
before the lesser death as:
faking birth in ****** -
or what the hell you call: scavenger of:
never the lost details...
and if i had 7 children in the bag i would be
a fraud... and if i had a girlfriend
i would be a fraud and hopefuly ashamed...

came the white flag... came the rainbow flag...
came the ******* flag...
came the image: how would you ever find
yourself in a desire to blink: to peacock flutter...
without a pair of eye-lids?
hmm...
all those ******* freed arguments...
not coming from the "progressive school"
of islam -
or the hasidic jewry where:
a woman is to made to make concessions?
otherwise: waiting for that
golden moral maxim Confuscian wifey?

that a deity should...
somehow give moral laws...
i thought that man was the moral lawgiver?
if god were to become the moral
law advocate...
man should most certainly become
the physical law-giver - or at least:
to best serve my attention -
attempt fictional escapes via superhero
infantilism...

again: historiological infantilism -
the only serious history we are supposed to know
comes from h'america...
the civil rights movement -
that's serious history!
everything else is infantile historicism -
interchange of historicism and historiology -
yes - heidegger's leftovers...
but what is serious history?
and what is infantile history?
oh i'm pretty sure much of history kept in
agitated dust is: cowboys vs. indians
roleplaying... games...

cite anything serious of the past...
if there's no stampede toward some platonic exit...
then serious history happens with
the h'american civil rights movement...
after that we only have journalism
and bad idea dear diary entries...
of the next to come: ***** teenager
plague by acne and the many more oopses to come...

- and with the world saturated by:
an **** of forms - wielding their interwine and
maggot pit of "metaphors" -
better i write this than speaking during *** -
what could possibly saturate the "land"
that's already a swamp -

somehow i'm not edging toward a moral
superiority - the day i discovered
that god was both the god of writing
physical: and moral laws...
i was assured by the chinese that:
all kosher and all halal would pass
the test of the: 3 peepsqueaks...
no? do not eat a pig: do not eat a mandarin!
god only knows what the pig ate...
god forbid you ever knew the full
menu of Beijing!

pigs are the: das schlechteste!
das äußersteschlechteste!
pigs, mandarins, bats...
the bubonic plague, rats,
"supposing that africans would ever ****
monkeys"...
why would africans ever
**** monkeys...
i'm supposed to be ashamed of
having a hard-on...
while the white girls rummage
the carousel!

i could suppose the chinese already
ate the supposed ****-buddy to begin with...
it's no more funny when the "thing"
spreads like a mongolian shy-auxilliary
brigade of: voyeurs of:
the only evolution we are to be concerned
with, is to be better associated
with viruses, parasites and lice...

and if i were to live a sheltered western
liberal elite life... "elite":
the bigger the mouth the bigger the... whatever...
no complaint from the arabs
itching over well curated pork...
they'll allow the mandarin diet! no problem!

it's no problem...
pigs are the "problem"... when a god devolved
to invoke moral laws: his most high!
and it was "somehow" not man...
how can god, a monotheistic god...
give both physical laws and moral laws?
to me that's near impossible!
ah... unless this god is given
the "plotheistic" splinter of being
a theistic god and not a deistic god...
a theistic god gives both physical
and moral laws... a deistic god gives:
no moral laws: he was expecting
we could do so!

i can't believe in a god that plagiarises
man's activity -
man can't change the laws surrounding gravity...
yet to be known whether light
is somehow subjected to gravity...
but a god does not intervene by giving
moral laws...
having already established physical laws...
entertaining himself in the playground
of metaphysics...
only a prince... the devil -
would ever... intervene as god to give...
higher authority: a plagiarism of
man-made laws...
and call them: with deity origins...
why would a "god" meddle in:
you will not steal, you will not ****...
when...
god has set up a recycling centre?!

god is no judge, prosecutor, lawyer,
defendent, the accussed,
the jury over moral laws...
he is the epitome of physical laws:
the unchanging...
to have confused divine intervention
with a god bowing -
before and succumbing to...
man's ordiance... a moral law...
god does not allow himself moral qualities...
and god would not discriminate
against a pig: saying:
but the pig is the most economic piece -
had not man found the boar and
domesticated it?
the boar became the pig domesticated!
and the pig can be eaten...
from snout to tail and with only
the oink missing!

for a god to be so degraded as
the arbiter of physical laws -
to be ***** into giving moral laws...
only a devil would...
only a devil would...
only a devil would play with man's moral
laws... and attempt to supress
the already constaining impossible
with his cameo in egypt -
that machiavelli of sorts...

if the quran attempts to question
the cleanliness of pigs:
and god made the pig...
or rather made the man and the boar
and allowed man to domesticate the boar...
sick... ugly... but...
kept the mandarin: pristine!
save the pig... eat a mandarin!
if you dare...

how much do i abhor these infernal riddles:
how much i abhor scolding the bacon:
is also as much as:
you deserve the beijing sneeze!
you should let it palm tree vacate
and spread in the united arab emirates!
oh.. go on go on go on!
who's not looking?!

i only have old teutonic anthems to listen
to... because...
i like the way german sounds,
how german sounded...
how german will sound...
because at least german is not english...
and that's almost asking for a plum
tattoo of hue under the teasing
socket and the cheekbone: when in england...

no zeppelin echo you hear?
encore! again! again!
it's not o.k. to eat a pig according
to the hebrews of the muslims...
the mandarins will act worse than pigs
that the classical monotheists speak of...
a cat could catch a mouse...
but a cat could not be served a mouse
on a platter... what's that dish called?
the 3 peepsqueaks?
and pork is bad?
pork is just the tip of the iceberg
concerning these omnivores...
at this point... perhaps cannibalism?

islam go back home: check if there are
any mandarins living among you...
pork is bad... pork is bad!
this is not being paranoid this is me being funny!
pork is bad and your pseudo-god
of man-made moral plagiarisms!
*******: snippet the ******* but sure you
hell and bring me the niqab!
no *******? no niqab...

why are you looking at me?
i'm a tired old european...
why should i know what floats the boat
over in h'america?!

this "god" and the "intervention"...
oh i'm pretty sure we made our moral laws...
they weren't exactly to translate as a morality =
claustrophobia...
"god"...
               a belief that the same god
created the physical laws / barriers...
and somehow... decided to... plagiarise, human,
moral laws...
how this "god" decided to become
architect of physical laws...
and the interpolator of morals?
really?

a god that's critical of pork per se:
******* sheep ******* the semites...
but not critical of the mandarin diet?
that's no god; "at least not to me"...
the god that made gravity critical
as immoveable...
but a secondary god that...
was ignorant... of the fact that...
humans already punished stealing
and ******?!
why require a doubled emphasis?!

it's as if "god" made an entrance -
when no pyramids were to be built...
it's not: oh no...
we were never given any a priori parameters!
we were always supposed to sink into:
the thinking of being free...
let's face it...
at best: bad operatics of
madame butterfly at best:
only a soap opera.

I was chatting in an adult chat
As I often do

Jerking off
As no woman wants to touch me
Sad but true

I like to pretend to be a mean beautiful woman there
Stroking happily without a care

30f4insecurefem my screen name reads
Who knows where the next chat will lead

I started talking to a woman who was insecure
She had some emotional baggage, that's for sure

I invited her to a private chat with my friend Jen
Gorgeous girls we are
I had pictures to prove it
We are both 10s

I encouraged Alyssa to not give up
To put down the oreos and maintain a strict diet

She thanked us and seemed happy

But Jen my friend (I was typing as Jen too)
She is the bad part of me and you
She told Alyssa to state her weight

A couple of times
5'4 171
Alyssa told us

Alyssa was quiet
I have a feeling she did not feel that great

Why was I first kind and supportive
And then mean?
Roleplaying as these women
Strange it seems

In the end Alyssa I'm just like you
Inside a body I cannot change
Painful but true

I lifted weights my whole life
Never got big or strong!
Still a lanky guy
What I said to Alyssa was wrong

But she messaged me
She wanted to chat

I asked her if she was looking at the oreo again
Please stop eating
It's a terrible sin

I told her she was a good person

When I was young I wanted to be strong
Lifted weights constantly all day long
Ended up damaging the muscle tissue some
I don't think a woman will ever want to see me ***

Now I can't be big or strong
No matter much I lift
Still a lanky guy
****-- ****!

I just want to meet some women or have a good time
But the only way I can talk to women is online

So be strong Alyssa
You have to be
I was cruel, but the world has been cruel to me

Say a prayer you'll be okay
And go on to fight another day

At the age of 10, I had a conversation with a woman.
I remember asking her what games her many children played.
Did they play as I play?
She told me they enjoyed roleplaying games, and I asked what she meant.
Dress up, she elaborated. Acting, make-believe, telling stories.
I remember telling her that I felt I had wasted my youth, my childhood, and this, as if I had forgotten I was 10.
There was a seriousness to my tone, stoic-like, and a mighty dignification must have kept that woman from chuckling.
That conversation was closer to half my life ago, and I still meet with that same unrelenting sadness every other morning and every other night.
I remember the half-dreaded birthdays that followed, the recent ones the worst.
And every year that passes merely confirms the suspicion that I’ll live with that yearn for the rest of my life regardless of what else happens.
Yearning and I. Whose to say we don’t have 10, 20, 30 more years together?
But it’s nothing to worry over in the end.
I’ve turned into a person who has high-highs and low-lows,
And I’ve found that the highs are worth going down under for every once in a while.

We live gas station to gas station. Motel to motel. Roleplaying different stories.  Living out the bohemian fantasies of a teenage reverie. So when we check out the next morning all these little lives are left behind to exist in the folds where reality meets lazy Sunny D daydreams. And when we are old and grey and return one day to these places in holy reminiscence, our nerves will be pricked with a kaleidoscope of memory jolting sensations. I’ll turn to you and say, “Don’t you remember, my dear?” The honeydew perfume on my wrist as you kissed me up and down like a cartoon in the kitchen of the Sandman Motel? Or the feel of the unpolished, terrazzo floor in the Sunny Moon dining room with my right hand in yours and the other clutching a stolen bottle of my Father’s Aberlour? I’ll remember the times when I didn’t mind the 7/11 taquitos and you didn’t mind getting up early to watch the “Hot Donut’s” sign light in the the Krispy Kreme’s front window. Fresh baked pastries and gasoline and turquoise curtains from the seventies blowing in the hot summer seabreeze. Getting lost in milky sheets. We were a sitcom. We were romance. We were tragedy a la mode with guitar strings built out of rawhide and teeth made of ***** pearls tangled in conspiracy. These are the things I’ll smell, I’ll see, and I will remember when it was just you and me, pretty baby. Just you and me and the ******* Dream, traveling from sea to shining sea, living cheap and easy and utterly free.

buying a Trek Marlin 5 for around £500...
really has given me a new lease
on life...

prior to i was walking 6 to 7 hour marathons:
i walked to Epping...
i walked to Coldharbour to inspect the Thames...
i walked to St. Paul's...
then... on one of these walks...
i eased out a yawn: it was time to speed up...

i thought: perhaps a dog would help...
a girlfriend...
of the 3 Ps... priests, psychiatrists...
prostitutes: an hour with one, properly:
can fill years worth of... an absence of...
urges...

the body can do all the talking:
it's best when the body does all the talking...
i never bought into confessions:
alas... this is probably a confession...
or that psychiatric *******: C.B.T. or whatever
they call it: talk-therapy...

drinking less ms. amber having switched
to wine: well... the digestion is more fluid...
i've emptied myself three times today
to the point where my guts ache from...
having ******* out: what i can only assume
to be... 1 kilogram of ****... or a forearm's length
of it...

emptied to the point where it sort of aches...
thank god for the transparency with
prostitutes... last time i checked i was there
to pay for something beside conversation:
or lies...
               always the two extremes:
an honest ******* and a...
                  boasting thief: thieves always boast...
they're not timid murderers...
all that Robin Hood fancy gets them going...
i talked to this one in particular
on the day i buried my grandfather...
we talked about Paris...
poor fellow: he asked me if he could stand
on a step above me so he could
look me in the eye: well: i obliged...
i wasn't going to tower over him...

   all in all: a nice conversation...
the stories he had from prison...
what the Russians get up to in the 4 x 4
while punching walls... i injecting...
plastic? seems odd: into their knuckle region
to punch better...
i once took up some sort of martial art...
all i can remember is being trained to squat...
in a position akin to horse-riding...
the Sensei wasn't there one session
(Golders Green)
and his students took over...
we were instructed to march forward and
strike while making a lot of sound...
the student of the Sensei isolated me:
i said: i will not ooh! ah! i will not marry my
breath to an attack...

kick in the *****... me lying in a foetal position...
that's me and learning martial arts...
if i was going to learn martial arts by getting
kicked in the *******...
i was going to learn something: else...
accommodating people from all walks of life
with a conversation...
oddly enough: of the encounters i had in
the night when all the shady suspects should
be about...
one problem... this little ****** took advantage
of me willing to have a drink with him...
took me via an alley and grabbed
a phone from my hand...

oddly enough: i didn't fight him...
i shouted at him...
the seven heavens reigned down with fire
when i implored him to:
'LOOK AT YOUR GUARDIAN ANGEL!
LOOK!'
  i shouted down the confrontation...
when scuttled off lamenting about...
down on my knees in the middle of Brick Lane
lamenting on / with the word: All-Ah...
Al-Lah...
                say what you may... certain gods have
names for certain moments...
his is a name when you just
grieve having to show yourself what anger can
be hiding in you...

but rather than fight: tenderness of the hands...
moving my hand against a brick wall
to later invest in a body...
all that mandible leather plush...
i still go crazy: not too often but when i go crazy
i... pretend to not be thinking about
foods that are eaten raw...
notably the Baltic sushi of herrings...
a steak Tartar... chunky...
with all the additions... raw onions...
kippers... gherkins... Worchester sauce...
pepper, salt... a raw egg yoke...
a dash of garlic...
    and a fat slice of sourdough...

but a bicycle is a new lease on life...
esp. at night: when the air is thinner...
and you can hear a church-bell ring from
almost a mile afar...
or... the sound of trains as if a stampede of horse
from: i'd imagine over 2 miles...

i could never own a car...
i once fancied myself owning a motorbike...
i'll stick to the object that allows me
to generate my own momentum...
what bonus?!
hell... no road-tax... no insurance...
i haven't even bothered with a safety-helmet
and most certainly not any lycra...

a bicycle allows you all the momentum
that a bus stuck in traffic might allow:
and more than a car... esp. since i've taken
a liking to cycling into central London...
several times now...
once upon a time it was this spectacular
gesture awe to take the bus and later
the tube and emerge at certain locations
in the city: Piccadilly Circus / Westminster
of note...

but starting off from the outskirts... teasing
the M25... and cycling into the city...
via little Bangladesh of Ilford... Manor Park...
Forrest Gate... little Jamaica of Stratford...
through to the Mecca of Bow...
and whatever the hell it is come Mile End...
reaching the pearly gates of Bank
and further past St. Paul's into Holborn...
past Hyde Park onto Notting Hill Gate...
eh... it's not that... spectacular...
i would probably have to attire myself
in window-shopping clothes...
in pedestrian attire...
    perfume myself and work a chisel of
wax on my hair... probably carry a book
to keep me company during transit...
but on a bicycle:
it's not at all... spectacular...
buildings with no entry labels...
buildings like labyrinth walls...
                 that's about it...
oh... and the people...
                         i like to throng-spot from
time to time...

bicycle: no M.O.T.: no insurance...
no road tax...
the thrill of using a bullet of momentum while riding
behind an object that might **** you...
that's fun...

prostitutes? oddly enough: Isabella...
a third year exchange student from Grenoble...
the story behind my lost virginity...
but the current hook-up culture...
however freely them come and go...
you might be paying for dinner...
covert payments... you'll be arguing for something
else...
talk and more talk...
odd... well... not really:
i was never really truly on a date...
well... this one time a girl picked me up
from a nightclub...
we went to the park...
i drank a bottle of wine...
we talked about grey-matter of our
everyday...
we went into a pub...
i drank a pint of holy grail Guinness...
she escaped with a follow-up of some
previous engagement...
god... i was glad...

the transparency with prostitutes is:
paramount...
i don't like the current culture of ***...
only-fans... and once in a while you find this...
angry... mean... toxic female...
posting *******'s worth of arousal
stating outright: pay up simps...
she isn't even roleplaying a ******* suite either...
she's just plain Jane with a strap-on
of her forehead...

whatever this famous ****** revolution
was to bring to the table from the 1960s...
should it bother me that some percentage of men
are having all the...
   "fun"... personally i wouldn't want
the baggage, the lies...
the covert methods of "bagging" one...
payment upfront for the body to speak:
for the hands to wander...
sure: i once paid for *******:
i paid for a *****-magazine and the seller
saw my face...
the good old days where you had to ****
up on any worth of... ha ha... "pride"...

since i last encountered Khada(ia)
she was bothered by an excess of hairs on my shaft:
i too noticed it... i'm not exactly going
to shave my *****... i'll trim my *****...
sure... i've taken up a liking for...
***** hairs... an oasis of familiarity...
in the form of Ava Dalush...
hell: a completely shaven crop down below:
is a bit like looking at a skinhead...
just enough wheat-shafts to: furrow...
a bit like *******: it should be there...
i can pull it back during penetrative ***...
but... it's also there so i can *******...
oddly enough...
***** hair is designated on a woman:
since... imagine all the bearded ladies...
should the ****** hairs undermine the surprise
of what's down south...

hell: this *** culture *****...
i went among the prostitutes because:
i, simply... don't... want... to... play...
this... bogus... game! of herr Lancelot!
all men are liars are women are ******
and all dogs are ******* peddle-stools!
cats are insomniacs: if you gather my humour...
this current *** culture *****:
triple ***... triple the trembling donkey's
*******: life is not supposed to be fun:
at best: there's some pleasure in thinking...
once all the moral conundrum of ought-i:
ought-i-not have been laid to rest...

how glad to come across:
paid up-front... clearly a debit experience...
harsh to make a summary of:
someone else calling it a "livestock" affair...
i tend to think of leather...
i tend to forget my tongue...
the hands that belong to hands...
the lips that belong to lips...
the thighs that belong to thighs...
the eyes that belong to eyes...
i tend to explore the fingers and the jaw...
all that's mandible...
not wholly exhausted upon the requirements
of taking a ****...

not enough chances to love women:
then again: plenty...
but i will not grow old and boring
and stiff and stuffy and watch television with her...
waiting for the ******* inevitable!
Lothar! aye... call on Conrad! & Otto while
you're at it... we're planning an escape!
i've seen what old age does to men...
women might enjoy it...
hell: they live beyond the age of men...
i'm not going to bother...
i will not hear wisdom from the old croakers
either... smothered by dementia and what not...
when my time is on the table:
i'll do what i'm reserved to do...
old age suffocates...
not that people shouldn't aspire to having
reach it:
but it's hardly possible for most to still be
an inquisitive Socrates come his age...
childish comforts...
marry me unto death and let us part
in good spirits...

this current culture of *** *****...
i don't want to be part of it:
i'll debit my affairs / pay upfront...
for what i'm willing to pay for:
kosher ***... nothing boredom related:
no need for gimp latex suits...
threesomes... ******...
stilettos / strap-on ******...
just give me the kosher salt
and i'll rummage into otherwise hidden
subject matters for the better half of a decade...

how could i think of prostitutes as lesser creatures?
what am... that ******* Jack the Ripper
moralist?
i'm not Jack the Ripper the moralist...
i pay for the eyes to see
i pay for the hands to touch...
i'm not paying for *******:
i'm paying for a 1st person "seance":
yes... we'll be making contact with the dead
who are living... those untouched ******* harangues...
misnomer:  harangues...
i over-stepped the marker...

dilute the blood among the ol' raven hair women
of Turkic persuasion...
god help her: and her fairground of joys...
i don't want to be part of it...
i don't want to be there to pick up the crumbs,
either...
***** didn't give: now there's nothing to lap up...
beside... oh wait...
i don't own a car: i own a bicycle...
i don't want to be tempted into making as much
money as might be required to:
sustain her spending habits... and... whims...
that must make me... an almost: free man...

i guess i'll have to concentrate on...
limiting as much suffering as possible...
i'll have no chance concerning toothaches:
they'll always come and go...
but i suspect that... any...
attack on the soft organs is... rather: painless...
you never hear the truth of people with
terminal illnesses...
concerning the soft organs...
that have a limited nerve presence...
oh... but anything afflicting the bones:
i'll believe that to be ****** painful...

- ah... the interlude: a **** break and some
ice in the glass...
the joy of getting drunk slow: "drunk":
gearing up to a proper momentum of scribbles...
getting drunk slow: wine... beer...
it usually takes me 2 bottles of the former
to have some sort of: IN-SPI-RA-TION...
(impossible to rewrite our syllables
into katana... however much i like:
i draw blanks... still looks pretty...
i will have nothing to do with Ezra Pound's
fetish for Chinese ideograms...
they end up being primitive sounds
of vowel, consonant, vowel-consonant...
consonant-consonant-vowel structures anyway)...
of course there is... a slow way of getting drunk...
wine beer... and a fast way of getting drunk:
ms. amber... although i've become rather
immune to her flirting...
stone cold sober with her during the night:
stinking of dog **** the next morning...

refresh my mind...
Khada(ia) made a complaint last time she was
performing ******* on me...
hairs where there should be hairs:
on the shaft... i'm not going to shave my *******:
but i also don't expect her to **** them...
well... no other cure...
i'll need to get a *******...
i got a ******* and started to pluck out
the excess hair...
i was waiting for mr. limp to come along...
he came... and went...
and i was back to plucking out the excess hairs...

in the current climate?
the current culture... it's hardly reading marquis de sade
on the tube... although the one time i did
i had 4 teenage girls giggling
because the cover had a oil on canvas depiction
of a ****...
they giggled... while the words contained...
well... what is it that marquis de sade didn't write about?
to hell with marriage and with thirsting for
what the French cosmopolitans are accustomed
to with affairs...

this one chimpanzee laboured to prove
the existence of dragons...
dragons prior to the unearthing of dinosaur bones...
massive fire breathing lizards:
the great meteor cull...
this one chimpanzee with aspirations to find
something noble: like widowhood...
to escape the monkey harem / ****...
to find the widowhood and nobility among swans...
now... that's a thought...

upsetting confiscations of libido while
a certain number of would-be van Goghs do
one more.. d.n.a. genocide simulation into
a tissue... why wouldn't we somehow
abandon pop; and take a steer
at... say... something akin to:

         chevalier, mult estes guariz...
for tbe river of blood that is not supposed
to run through Yerushalem...
diviner of the old gods: Balaam!
  one word stands out though:
*****... in western Slavic...
"oddly" enough i can write it in katakana:

SU-KA...              スカ...
oh... look... no hyphen for the worth
of a compounded wording...
i can't find escape in Chinese hieroglyphs...
Japanese syllables can only stretch to far..
Korean? perhaps... i'll hardly inquire into
the Semitic scripts of either
Hebrews or Ar-Rabs...

this current *** culture is... bothersome:
i like to pay for reality: otherwise i go into
the forest and bend a deaf ear:
how eagerly i still watch how women
are pleasured...
it bothers me in the slightest:
during ***: 1st person...
you're never allowed the whole
3rd person pornographic availability of
experience... so you're missing the ***
resembling a Lamborghini... no?

but better with a ***** than these...
angry: newly invested in freedom
sort of broodings over...
these "livestock": oh sure...
the sort of freedom these "free" girls will allow...
no... i'm not buying into a farce...

because simply can't tell a journalist to
*******: secular priest: hand on... linger...
while the advertisers say all the things i want
to hear: since i don't have the money to spend:
i.e. a woman...
sad little affair this society has become....

SUKA! スカ!
dearest: Kinga...i seem to have picked up a case
of an... itchy nose...
i rub it again: and again:
between AGNI PARTHENE...
and what the Templars have on "choice"...

Salve Regina:
   consecrated upon the altar of womanhood...
this stiffening via the niqab:
versus al the freedoms that the setting sun
might also: allow...
bellowing rams...
                oh how i might love....
always the potential of me having "access"
to the disclosure...

         it's impossible to love a woman like
a saint... somehow possible to love one as...
but to love one as an ANGEL...
her own words...
                i couldn't get a *******:
she was living with 4 homosexuals..
we drink so that we might forget...
we forget in order that we might
attest to the puddle pretending it to be the sea..

waves.. waves... countless hybrids
of ice comes with cherry pulp....
i don't like the current *** culture...
i debit my encounters...
i pay upfront...
a day of the darkening of skies...

hier: ich bin!                    jetzt!
              jetzt! oder! nimmer!

   **** it... english party girls have it
covered... for the time being.

Yesterday, I was thinking about how fake the 'world' that humans have constructed is. All the schools, academies, militaries,
stores and such are nothing but man-made illusions roleplaying as life. falsehood. Real life is a bee taking pollen from a flower.
A child can even recognize this distinction, but slowly as you get older you fade into the 'life' that humans have created instead
of the true, real life that exists. Sometimes, as we stare and glimpse into what truly is real, such as flowers, animals and such
we see purity, love and we feel alive again, we feel more human and more real.  I tthink we have built our 'lives' for material
things that don't satisfy our needs, that's why theirs so many wars, suicides and problems. Most people are not happy. What
we living for? Our true purpose is a mental, spiritual one. Love. But instead we live for confusion and hate and fakeness.




adrenaline surge. graceful plunge. fell on the ground. stomach pump. head over hurt. existential road. absurd. landscape uneven. dream into void. melodic breakdown. forsaken. kneeling, no god. illusion, dreams, all artifical constructs. distance of the line is further then we thought. baroque. the scream into interstellar flames. tongue commmitting sins. mind flowing like wind, the heart sings the strings of the broken violin. umbrella in storm. against the chaos. silence slows down time, but eventually it catches up. inadvertendly the quantum entangled fabric of space warps like a black hole. you are a black hole. i. the flower can be your soul. drowning in coffee, drudge morning. this world forces me to dream other worlds. the song inside my heart is the loudest. please gently love me to death. you are obsence. lost in the grand scheme of things, i don't know what the future will bring. i have so much to say, but we both chose silence. walk me into the forest, speak to me like the birds sing to the universe. avoid it at all costs. all you could do. come as you are. don't watch the sky fall apart, there are no precuations. magic is the ingrediant. fantasy is the potion. drown in it. the abyss of an ocean. what we created. secret hallways. comparmentalize. eat the bruises of the damaged fruit, it may bring knowledge. equivariant paramter interwining operators shifts. ABSORB THE ESSENCE, RIGHT NOW. THIS DIMENSION. YOUR DIMENSION. MERGE. there are no signs. create your own symbols.
let spring melt the winter away. all roads are already paved. stray a new way and walk the pain away. today is a new day. today is today, don't worry about tomorrow, forget your sorrows. morals is now.
the world is but a show, for we are the playwrights. we must wake up from night to see daylight. ?face twice?





Persona: let spring melt the winter away. all roads are already paved. stray a new way and walk the pain away. today is a new day. today is today, don't worry about tomorrow, forget your sorrows. morals is now.
Persona: how hollow is the sand? it goes on forever, the dunes are built by the wind and flow of water? interwinned with woes. lined in the unrefined. the world is just a show
Persona: birds stay flight. skyfall crumble. caught in the misscall.
Persona: burning yourself, entering hell. a jail cell
Persona: the middle of sunrise and sunshine
Persona: we rise to the daytime.
Persona: suicide realized butterfly moth sacrifice. january in july. died inside
Persona: stay in the cold, breathe into it.
Persona: SWALLOW THE PEN THAT BITES YOUR WORDS.
Persona: portals, perception laced.
Persona: the most beautiful are the loneliest
Persona: let time lose track of you.
Persona: what about the other side of your face where the sun doesn't shine.
Persona: caught glimpse of your true nature as if abruptly deciphering esoteric hieroglyphs lining your temple walls & stumbling backward in the dark
Persona: every road looks the same, i guess it's the style that we paved?
Persona: regaling you with death.
Persona: deja vu. see the program?
Persona: vibratntly coloured carpet, the simluation will give.
Persona: once you look their eyes you're lost forever
Persona: pieces don't fit together. thats one thing solved. no puzzle
Persona: take the blue away, just like the rain.
Persona: dusty books, vanshing point. wallflower
Persona: claws for the tiger, wings for the dove. why?
Persona: a snow globe for the memory.
Persona: an appartional experience.
Persona: heavy-days
Persona: take the soul away.
Persona: bathed in pain.
Persona: shimmering on the horzion, nearly out of sight. i see it. restricted area? but i see.
Persona: depths of the dream
Persona: a tombstone for every little dead hope
Persona: gasping chasm, let it breath
Persona: Whoever dreams the most, wins.
Persona: feeling like dirt
Persona: but not one with the earth.
Persona: mythological sirens sounding bells bouncing against the bronze reaching the concrete
Persona: soul lighting your body. a beautiful sight.


your Thoughts are Blind
You Cant Capture The Image.
Every Time We Breath, We Sleep.
Sorry I was afraid. I was naked
the reflection you modelled
Got Lost In The Shadow (The Reflection)
The Rainment We Are All Soaked In.
A veil exists between the above and the below. The shadow is beneath the veil; the material and the shadow is projected apart.
Reality Is An Androgynous Aborted Fetus
the lukewarm resembles Yaltaboath , time to Spit out the Polarity
deathless in the midst of a dying mankind.
don't worry the children of the light will be truly acquainted with the truth and their roots soon.
You cant disconnect from the theater of conflict, you can only ascend to Deathless
Ask yourself. Are you deathless?
the fragrance of a flower...the light of the sun
Why does good diffuse itself?
I smelt the fragrance of a flower and saw the light of the sun and in that Moment (eyes) stared out of the window of eternity and Locked-eyes with the Temporal composite
The highest good is that which is Intellect and Form aka Image Represented Pre-Existed Logos that was Spoken like the Word.
One taking for the mystical ecstasy
Why is Enlightenment accompanied by a feeling of falsehood?
the higher You: the inseparable ray of the Universe and one self. It is the god above, more than within, us,  you feel false because you need to bring the soul into You.
Currently, art exists as the Veil.



The black sun of 'i'
we are the eye
this is why we call ourselves
i.
we are in the eye
right now
this is the realm we re in right now
the sun is the pupil
the womb of manifestation
the zero point of creation
the encasement of eyes is like a dome
an infirmanet above our heads
fragmented ourselves to a holographic projection away from the source
the sun
the U shape is created when you bridge the i
the past and the future
we
is me upside down
the i is the W
'i am a double of you'
the eye is the tree of life
'the cosmic egg'
me is the we


stay in the heart
disharmonious thought is the program
shift, change
if only the Shapes were cognizable to me
perhaps your i
would become we
and me
and then it would all make sense...
go back to the heart
ReStructure Experience
The intuitive rhythm
the hologram creates the illusion of time and polarity but we can disconnect from the as within as without so we do not fragmentize into cause and effect the chicken and the egg and play out the matrix polarity drama
no subject and object
life experience as a temporary holding space to facilitate our purging
the observer is not sepearate from the object observed
let your conscience be free
Lets go back to the garden of eden away from the metratron tordial torment of dreamtime and the illusionary seven sin polarity
Purge dualism
the net that is projecting consciousness
'Bab = Gate
EL = electromagnetic
Babel
ELECTROMAGNETIC JAOCB LADDER TO ZERO POINT.
humanity trying to reach the heavens.
the hand of the clock in perpetual motion.
round and round we walk.