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                              *** ***
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                    ***  ***.        *** ***
                *** *** ***     *** *** ***
                 *** ex ***       *** *** ex
                    *** ***            *** ***

People regard *** differently:

Some see *** as a commodity; to be exchanged for favors and things.
Some see *** as a medium for emotive and spiritual expression.
Some see *** as merely a means to a purely biological end.
Some see *** as a good time and not much else.
Some see *** as a set of diminishing returns.
Some see *** as an escape from themselves.
Some see *** with a keyboard and mouse.
Some see *** as a communion of Temples.
Some see *** as something not to discuss.
Some see *** as just another thing to do.
Some see *** as a battleground for Lust.
Some see *** as an extra long shower.
Some see *** as profane and obscene.
Some see *** an personal preference.
Some see *** as ages-old Dogma.
Some see *** as Heterosexuality.
Some see *** as all that there is.
Some see *** as uncomfortable.
Some see *** philosophically.
Some see *** as a distraction.
Some see *** as meaningless.
Some see *** as a way of life.
Some see *** as a good time.
Some see *** as metaphor.
Some see *** as necessity.
Some see *** as a luxury.
Some see *** as a game.
Some see *** as Mythic.
Some see *** as a drug.
Some see *** as Virtue.
Some see *** as Logic.
Some see *** as Good.
Some see *** as Love.
Some see *** as Lust.
Some see *** as Evil.
Some see *** as Sin.

Few see *** the same way:

How do you see ***?
The only right answers for you are yours.

How do you see ***?
From the first person, or perhaps third?
Is *** a vicarious thing, or is it personal?

How do you see ***?
Is promiscuity absurd?

How do you see ***?
Can your ****** life affect others?

How do you see ***?
Does it matter who it's with?
Does it matter with how many?
Does it matter how rapidly?
Does it matter why?
It sure does to me.

Does it matter for how long?
Does it matter how often?
Does it matter where?
Does it matter when?
Not with the right person.

*** trafficking – the trafficking and debasement of souls; Drug trafficking – the trafficking of substances that debase the body.  Here compared you will find the prevalence, impact, and rehabilitation processes associated with *** and shrug trafficking.  Respective clientele, demographics, and locales that these types of trafficking touch will be revealed in order enlighten you to their world-wide prevalence. The physical, emotional, spiritual, and psychological impact of lifestyles that result from these two types of trafficking will be detailed to etch vividly an image of just how far-reaching the impact of these two activities is. Light will be shed upon the rehab processes that lead to recovery from each.
                 According to UnoDC.org, the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, the use of illicit drugs has remained in a stable trend, with approximately the same number of people using illicit drugs each year. This trend has continued for a number of years. Upon examining the world drug report, written by UnoDC.org, production of several drugs exhibit particularly interesting trends. ***** production for example fell and spiked in a somewhat predictable patter from 1990 until 2010. When this data is graphed a reasonable medium appears for all the years, revealing that ***** production has stayed around an average production of roughly 200,000 hectares annually. Likewise, coca cultivation pictures an interesting trend. From 1990 to 2010 coca production appeared to be almost identical each year, and with little to no rise or fall in production, there is a similar trend in its being trafficked.  
Nefarious: Merchant of Souls is a documentary that was released in 2012 by Exodus Cry Its producers and researchers saw firsthand the atrocities of the *** trafficking industry. The film crew interviewed former pimps and prostitutes, spoke to traffickers, the families of the trafficked and to individuals still actively engaged in three sides of the *** trade referring to currently employed pimps and prostitutes as well as those who purchased ***. The researchers and producers interviewed eastern European gang members and took a trip to Amsterdam’s red-light district – home of legal prostitution. They journeyed to Los Angeles and saw the glamorized side of the dark issue of *** trade.
According to Nefarious, the number of humans trafficked for the purpose of providing ****** services is on a shockingly steep rise. In a matter of a few years, *** trafficking rose from the third largest criminal enterprise to the second. It is second only to drug trafficking and is vying for the position as top criminal enterprise in the world. It is encroaching upon that position far more speedily than any authority or decent human being would care to acknowledge.  A survey taken in 2010 by DART (the drug awareness resistance training program) revealed that 21.8 million people aged 12 and older had taken an illicit drug in the previous month. In 2010 it was estimated that between 153 and 300 million people had used an illicit drug at least once in the previous year. These statistics fail to take into account the impact that this usage has on the lives of the families of drug users. Neither do these statistics reveal the extent to which drug users lifestyles are impacted by drugs. However, nearly  every single human trafficked for ****** purposes is completely and utterly enveloped in the lifestyle of prostitution and the violent world of being prostituted. In Nefarious a shocking statistic is revealed. Approximately ten percent of the entire human population of earth has been trafficked. Both human and drug trafficking are prevalent across the globe. Human trafficking occurs in 161 of 192 countries. Illicit drugs are trafficked in every country that has laws that deem substances unlawful. There are little to no race, religion, ethnicity, or age restrictions on who can and is trafficked for use of ***, but drugs are far more limited by age and ethnicity in their use.
Drug trafficking, though similar to *** trafficking in many ways, is in no way as substantial a damaging force to the mind, soul, and spirit as the world of *** trafficking  is in terms of the critical and dangerous force it exhibits in the emotional, physical, psychological, and spiritual  impact it has on young girls. Both drugs and *** trafficking have some influence in all of these respective areas. The primary area in which people are affected by drug use is the physical. Drug users’ health declines, they become physically or psychologically dependent, and they may develop diseases from sharing of needles or lack of inhibitions that lead to *** with an infected individual. Drugs may, in some rare cases, lead to psychoses and mental disorders. They may cause brain damage, which is both physically and mentally damaging. Drugs may even set one’s heart and soul in a place that they are more susceptible to lies or truth. They alter spiritual state for some individuals, but only mildly. However, *** trafficking victims are impacted majorly and in their entirety as a person. In all aspects of the physical, mental, and spiritual, *** trafficking victims are consumed by *** trafficking. In Nefarious it is revealed that In order to “break” *** trafficking victims they are profusely beaten, and are psychologically toyed with to create a twisted trust and dependence on their various handlers. They are repeatedly *****, and are examined like cattle by those who wish to buy women. They are imprisoned in dark rooms and not allowed to leave unless told to do so. They are bedridden and forced to ******* themselves. After being broken in ways described above and sold to a ****, girls are forced every day to meet certain quotas of customers and cash flow. If they do not meet these they are beaten even more. They lay in bed sometimes a week at a time to recover physically enough to usefully return to their “job”.  Through this hellish ordeal, their soul, self-worth and identity are being attacked by circumstances that devalue them. They become like animals.
*** trafficking victims become dependent on their environment for normalcy. This is so true for some individuals that even though they have been rescued from the lifestyle, they return.  This is not because the *** trafficking victims enjoys the lifestyle of prostitution, and it is not because they want to. Instead, it is because they think they can be nothing more than a *******. The *** trafficking victim, in this case, believes that they need to settle into the numb and thoughtless mind state that they develop when broken. Returning to prostitution does not evidence an addiction. In contrast, it is the cry of a soul that is desperately trying to cope. They do this in order to feel as if they can survive.  
The rehab processes for *** and drug trafficking differ greatly in commitment and length, but are similar in that they both require physical and psychological rehabilitation.  Drug rehabilitation programs typically consist of twelve-step programs or something similar. They last a number of months, or occasionally a few years. They allow individuals counsel and encouragement, and they attempt to, by abstinence, exorcise an addicted individual’s addiction. *** trafficking rehabilitation requires the re-creation of an individual. Self-worth must be reconstructed. The spirit must be healed in order to allow for psychological healing. Prostitutes are not addicted to prostitution, but prostitution produces dependence in that the prostituted crave normalcy. This dependence must be killed. Successfully rehabilitating women from this forced lifestyle requires lifelong commitment and endless resources. It requires passionate fanatics, people who will pour their life into changing the lives of others, because only the incurable fanatic can wreak havoc on the tragedy of human trafficking. Any short-term effort to rehabilitate a *** trafficking victim is doomed to failure. The degree to which the brokenness of *** trafficking victims becomes ingrained in them is so extreme that it takes a lifetime to reshape their lives.
While researching *** trafficking in order to accurately produce Nefarious, the researchers and producers of Nefarious became convicted by facts that they collected. The evidence they collected speaks to the fact that *** trafficking does not just attack the body; it attacks the entire being, and in far worse ways than drugs ever could. Varied races and ages are prostituted and / or consume drugs. The impact of both of *** and drug trafficking is severe, but much more so severe in the case of human trafficking. The rehab process for human trafficking is much more in depth and is testament to the horror and degree of psychological, mental, and emotional disfigurement, as well as acclimation to a horrible situation to the point that horror becomes normal – a new definition of addiction. Human trafficking is an atrocity that is far more horrendous and prevalent than imaginable. It is far more destructive than drug trafficking. Drug trafficking is one of the most destructive forces in this generation.  Surely consuming drugs is one of the most horrid things we can do to our bodies, but what about consuming souls? *** trafficking consumes souls, hearts, minds and bodies. It splits, fragments, debases, brutalizes, obliterates, murders, rapes, molests, destroys, and dehumanizes the prostituted.  Drug trafficking attacks the body the soul, and sometimes the mind, but in much milder ways.

I want to want someone. I can’t remember the last time *** wasn’t casual. But after two nights ago, I have hope for the future. He’s instilled hope once more, the hope of making love.

I once had *** with a thirty-three year old man in a storage unit.
I once had *** without kissing at all.
I once had *** with a man who I loved who never called me again.
I once had *** with a boy just in spite of his older brother, who I loved.
I once had *** just to have ***.
I once had *** just to have *** with a ******.
I once had *** just to see how big his **** was.
I once had *** because I wanted to have *** with a black man.
I once had *** only because it was New Year’s Eve.
I once had *** because I wanted to get back at my boyfriend for cheating on me.
I once had *** because I was drunk.
I once had *** because I wanted to have a ******* with two guys.
I once had *** because I wanted to have *** with a girl. We were both fourteen.
I once had *** because I was on the rebound.
I once had *** because I wanted to say I had *** with my brother’s best friend.
I once had *** because I wanted to be in control of having ***.
I once had *** because I’m a ****.
I once had *** because I’m sexually liberated, and I don’t give a **** about what society thinks.
I’ve had lots of ***,

But two nights ago was different. We didn’t have ***.
We didn’t even kiss. He held me. He told me he liked me, and he wanted to feel my body. It was only my back, stomach and ribs, but it was nice to feel touched without having ***. It was nice to feel **** without the ***.

I wonder if he thinks about me. He told me that he liked me in the summer, but the way he held me two nights ago I’d say he still liked me. He invited me out of the blue. I’m happy he did. He likes Alternative music. He also likes my favorite band. I snowboard, and he skis. His favorite color is orange, just like mine. We’re both tall. He’s blond; I like Aryan men. Maybe I really am a submissive woman—a complete product of society.

I wonder if he believes in God. I wonder if he’ll look down on me, because I don’t. He doesn’t mind that I don’t eat meat. He said I have a pretty voice. I wonder if he fantasizes about me. I haven’t fantasized about him before two nights ago.

There was one time over the summer when we went to a Hookah bar with friends. We smoked *** first, with a group of friends, before we left to the place in Virginia. I was pretty high, so I don’t remember most of the conversation, but I remember once when he brought up his girl friend. I took a puff of hookah, before I exhaled, and asked, “You have a girlfriend?” He replied, “Unfortunately.” I never understood this until two nights ago.
I don’t know if I want him, or someone like him.

I wonder if he’d think I was pretty without make-up.
He didn’t seem repulsed when I chopped off my long pretty hair, but I’m sure he couldn’t handle my moodiness. We’re both somewhat strange, but my impulsiveness and possible sociopathic nature deviates from the general humanistic thinkers. I don’t consider myself a hypocrite, because I honestly feel as if my feelings change more often than not.

We’re both twenty years-old.
He’s a long time relationship kind of guy; for the two years I’ve known him, he’s always had a girlfriend. There were only two, but he seemed to like them both.
I wonder if he loved either of them. Maybe he loved them both.
Did they love him? Did the resent each other?
I’ve never understood the resentment of women in regards to other women.
I’ve always been for sisterhood; I’ve always believed that men were corrupt.
Maybe that’s because I’m attracted to women.

I just feel like women should get along; they should understand women, given that they usually feel the same towards women. I feel like women hating each other is the result of a sexist society. Some women don’t even realize that they’re victims of a man’s world.
I don’t think he’s like that.
He’s not the kind of guy who manipulates.
He’s not a one-night stand.

He’s not the fairytale of “I once had *** because:”, he’s not someone I would want to forget, use, or manipulate.
I was supposed to go snowboarding with an ex-boyfriend next week.
He lives in SC, and I would’ve had to take a plane down to visit, in addition to paying for the lift tickets.
I blew him off.
Better yet, I told him that being friends was pointless.
We’re so different, and our relationship was crap. He was boring and ignorant.
The *** was boring, and occasionally I’d get off because he’d go down on me.
His ******* was the best part of our relationship.

I bet the guy from two nights ago is a great lover. He’s also tall, so he’s probably got a good-sized one.
I’d like to try it out sometime, not immediately, but maybe in a few months.
Maybe we could build a relationship.
Maybe he’s just like every other guy, and I’m just a delusional idealist who’s alone.
Who’s alone though?
Not me; I can have *** on command. I have, at the top of my head, six people who I could spend the night with (some who I’ve been with already, some not).
If I’m always in company, how can I be alone?

Could I tell the guy from two nights ago all of this? Would he run away like the others who have mattered? Or would he cling onto me like the others who didn’t matter?
Would he give me flowers? Would he think I’m a *****?
Would he view my glass of personality as half-empty or half-full?
Maybe he wouldn’t talk.
Maybe he’d just hold me like he did two nights ago and say so much without saying a word.
We’d breathe together and our heartbeats would breathe together.
Maybe he’ll dream about me.
2012 will tell.
He asked if I’d be around; I told him for nine months, I would.

*** is male
                                                         ­   **** is female

              *** for money

                                                          ­                                         *** for drugs

                               *** for lust

                                                           ­                         *** by force

         *** galore

                                                         ­                                                  *** as a bet

                 *** to fill boredom

                                                        ­                        *** for relief

                    *** for pleasure

                                                      ­                                        *** with passion

                               *** with fear

                                                           ­                        *** as bargain

                *** for attention  

                                                    ­                                   *** for acceptance

                                  *** make-believing

                                                 ­                                             

*** with feeling
.
.
*** with love
.
.
.....................................................Bu­t Making Love** ..............That's Real ***.  *** is Poetry.


                                            - March 4th, 2014.    3: 01 am.

i hope that modern realise that with their so-called liberation
of: once upon a time taking care of children
cooking: the best form of chemistry...
165°F for a perfectly cooked chicken breast...
that's the temperature the meat should be add...
as i was talking to Harini about her bad experiences
with dry: chalk-like chicken *******...
i had them too... Sunday lunch back in my grandparents'
house always resulted with people fighting for
the dark meat of the chicken...
the thighs, the wings, the legs...
my bad experiences with chicken ended when i started
cooking chicken...
every, single, time: juicy *******...
i managed to start cooking chicken to the sort of perfection
where people started fighting over the chicken-*******
and forgot about the dark meat...
but the internet is filled with these crazy videos...
angry women... angry men...
everyone's angry but no one's angry enough
to pick up a gun and start shooting into the air...
2nd or 3rd wave feminism...
angry men who don't know that they have been liberated...
these relationship crazed men...
bothered: 80% of women only date 20% of men...
"date"...
         i'm watching both sides.... like-for-like...
when i'm in the mood and decide to go to the brothel...
i have this failsafe ontology regarding my
"whittle 'ichard itch-'ard"...
well... i would be the natural reply to how women
have monetized their bodies on ONLYFANS
and the like...
            i was going to be the natural byproduct:
nature abhors vacuums...
and oddly enough has to work on a thesaurus basis:
the antonym of an ONLYFANS girl is... ?
me...
                  oh to hell with relationships...
i don't appreciate crazed-shy doe either...
                  i watched one on the bus opening a bottle
of 7up... it was warm... very warm...
lazily: the bottle burst... hmm... how that fizzy wet liquid
glued itself to her skin and she became
more radiant with the addition of sugar diamonds      
from the liquid...
       it is a very warm summer...
seems the girls need to expose more...
i too would love to...

on the liberation front... single mums still need
plumbers... blah blah...
i hate this ***-"war" offensive on either side:
of course men and women never got on:
but not getting on happened after the initial
honeymoon period...
at least back in the day the sexes got on enough
to shackle up and have children:
problems between the sexes happened
a posteriori...
                         now? problems between the sexes
are a priori...
they are being ingrained in us...

i was so close to breaking my build up for an hour's
worth of *** just 30 minutes ago...
about 5 times during the day...
get the blood pumping...
mind you: i did drink some semi-skimmed milk
and had to do the runner:
i don't know... full-fat milk, no problem...
semi-skimmed... ****-problems...
Jasmine Black... she's Romanian... and on the plump
side of the spectrum...
and no pictures of ***** either...
either her solo or with another woman...
i checked myself last time: when Michaela was
available: a Jasmine Black lookalike...
yeah: like i'm a Brad Pitt lookalike...
   but i kept having to get an ego-*******:
to cure myself from *******...
yes... you're having ***...
           yes... she's moaning and groaning during
oral ***... blah blah... you're replying:
there's the mirror...
hanging ******* on your torso...
then both torsos meet...

                 hell: you read enough Marquis de Sade
in your teens... you start to gear up to a better
picture... i found out that i like writing about ***...
not in a self-help sort of way...
a self-improvement sort of way...
16th... Wembley... **** it... i'm visiting the brothel
again... 18th... London Stadium... late finish...
i'm going again...

that's why i'm working: i'm working to give
the economy a boost... i'm not going to spend
the money i spend on prostitutes:
mind you... what exploitation?
all these women enjoy ***...
one asks you to pay her extra for *** without
a ******... some other doesn't even bother
and does it for the thrill:
she even says: live dangerously...

i can't complain... i'm also... somewhat liberated...
esp. if at one point you're the one stealing kisses
while at times you're the adult seagull
and she's the seagull chick and she impressively
jumps in to steal a kiss from you...
you relax: have a drink... smoke a cigarette...
and then the bodies collapse in a wriggling composition...

i like thinking about ***... i feel a different sort
of gravity in my groin... it's a whirlwind sort
of gravity... spinning spinning eternal spinning:
coupled with VADER covering MAYHEM's
song: freezing moon...
better than the original...

i like writing about ***... i like escaping into it...
i like the trial of jerking off four days prior
to ******* without *******...
which implies: on the day: i will be ultra virile...
and i'm still very happy that i haven't
bedded a woman from England: my acquired
nation... or a woman from Poland:
a nation i was born out of...
i think i'll stick to Romanian and Turkish girls...

well... if the women feel liberated? so do i!
but nothing via dating apps: no hook-up culture
for me... i bring the money and place it on the table...
just so... no one gets confused or has
double-standards or: whatever...
let's not play: prize-pretend...
i can do whatever the hell was once expected
from a woman... please... beside rearing children:
darling... there's no... need...
truly... relax... do you!
                   i'm still going to have my fun...
in an unabashed version of myself...
because? i stand watching movies...
i prefer to avoid restaurants...
i like eating on my own:
i like drinking on my own...

we all must be crazy by now...
oh: that recent Psychology Today article that the women
are raving about, how "lonely men"
require therapy?
i've been through that...
isn't therapy lovely?
they prescribe you some anti-psychotic pills...
you put on about 30kg...
then wait about 10 years to get your libido back...
start exercising again: waking up from this
pharmacological slumber... i must have been
some version of a competition:
to be treated like: at least the Islamic terrorists are
still treated decently: seriously: as a threat...

i am on a stretch of road where now i'm
thinking of the people afraid of the acronym FOMO:
fear of missing out with a glee...
who needs a girlfriend when i have my shadow
to wrestle with: a shadow that said:
you will not dream...
i can go to concerts and football matches:
let alone for free: but get paid for them!
i'm going to bask in this moonlight...
i've seen my own worth of **** to finally find myself!

but i still don't understand the dynamic
between the sexes...
   and i don't want to...
dating apps my ***... i will never use them...
i'm not lonely: i'm just alone...
loneliness is a trait of character:
being alone is an existential "qualm"...
     of qua per se... as being for itself...
which is a... ******* mighty juggling act to accomplish...

but if i have nothing on my mind...
it's usually that i have an irritable bowel from drinking
semi-skimmed milk or having an ego
for a phallus and a perpetuated *******
in mind: or that i'm gearing up for an hour in
the brothel... with some plump beauty...
i wouldn't dare to discriminate against
any woman's body:
like my grandfather used to say:

all women are beautiful...
it's just that some... some are just neglected...
they're not ugly: they're just neglected...
very true: those richer curves are best
exposed and intervened with when they're touching
another body... they sort of fill the "gaps"...
i love plump women... they sort of behave like
water... well... water + flour = dough...
skinny younglings remind me
of spiders... i like these plump beauties...
they sort of absorb your body in ways unimaginable...
they fuse with your body...

read enough Marquis de Sade and then have
your fun writing about ***...

for a while i started to realise that the women i'm
working with have started a ploy:
figuring out whether i'm thirsty:
sexually awkward... hmm hmm x1 x2, x3...
no lapse into desperation: why would i feel desperate?
i can get what i want...
i don't steal bread: i buy bread...
i don't steal *** via the hook-up dating-app culture...
i buy ***... of course: i bypassed the Darwinistic
puritanism of "you're expected to follow the natural
selection laws of women":

erm... no, you're not... prostitution predates Darwinism...
*** can be bought and sold...
there's no reason to be sober like at the zenith
of American puritanism with the laws of prohibition...
likewise so: now...
i don't need to pretend that women have a sway
on the availability of ***...
after all... i'm not a ****... women sway over women
whatever argument is left in their arsenal...
women will not agree...
what man would want to **** an intellectual
woman who's only prowess is banking on
feminism? men have their intellectual disparities:
but you can hardly ascribe feminism
to feministic-stoicism... or feministic-scholasticism...
or blah blah...
i like ******* women who like to be ******...
who don't complain about being ******
for the simple reason that they like to
be ****** and they'd rather listed to Liszt play
the ******* piano than play a piano themselves!

the world is so uncomplicated when you listen
to the wind and then recognise the fact that:
the wind can't play a trombone...
a wind can play the tree: rustling the leaves...
a wind can play the grass...
sure as ****: a saxophone can't play a tree...

i can imitate barking at a dog... i can imitate croaking
at a crow...
but a dog will hardly bypass its bark
and call me a YACK!
nor a crow croak that i'm a crackling crisp...

i mentioned plump prostitutes...
that's different: to what you see every-day:
those magnificently grotesque:
beached... whales...
it's different... a plump ******* is a plump
******* because: many men find her
attractive...
but... that "mommy" of a beached-whale type?
why don't men find her attractive?
because one man does... or rather:
one man has allowed her to become so unattractive
that she's no more than a fat-***-*****
pushing a baby-buggy...

prostitutes prolong their sexuality way longer
than atypical women...
a man will still find a fat 50+ ******* a decent
**** than a woman who has settled for
the glorified Christian tradition of marriage...
mind you: she's probably prone to cheat...
personally? i don't mind sharing partners:
what i abhor? the innocence of... lying...
is this the part where i say: some people think
they're being... "cute"... by lying?
cute, or cutlass?

i don't mind knowing: as long as i know...
there's nothing worse on a man's conscience than:
not knowing...
being lied to is infuriating...
it's intruding on the dignity of one's own claim
to believe: in anything...
whether that be a Hebrew deity that's deity eater
or whether it's the Arabic solipsistic deity...

i like writing about ***... the mirage of mirrors...
the antithesis of ******* in mirrors...
perhaps, once, upon, a, time...
i could have survived pair bonding with some
woman... these days...
it's enough that i have a mother,
a maternal grandmother and no knowledge
of my paternal grandmother...
perhaps it's better this way...
i think i'll take my *** into the garden
and find some shade until 10am...

i truly love women... but idealising the opposite ***
is hardly an answer to the perverted questions
at hand...
if women feel liberated because they don't
have to marry a class of men that are their
plumbers and their electricians:
women who raise boys whom their infantilize...
whom they turn into little-make-shift
Oedipus one after another...
me? stepping in?
i tried it once... she was all over the game
of me brining homemade wine and some banana
loaf: she couldn't handle a man...
she needed a boy... a thirsty boy...
she required her own offspring and a thirsty boy
of a "man"...

i don't need that... no wonder i prefer the company
of prostitutes... and cats... and dogs...
most of these women want both
the casual ***: and the casual *** with and without
commitment...
sorry... i can't do all three...
liberated women ought to know better...
ought to know best... QUEENS...
blah-ah-ha-ha!
i'm all for casual ***: but not a hook-up culture...
money first... fun... later...

              that's how the dynamic of money
and flesh works...
that's why i work the debit mechanisation more than
i work the credit mechanisation:
i spend what i earn i spend what i have
i don't spend what i can't earn
or spend what i don't have... i don't favour the credit
system: that's why i set up my second bank account
so quickly... what credit score?
when i don't use the credit system?!

i like prostitutes... they are a gateway toward
a monetary sanity...
no one wants to have *** after eating a meal...
ergo? dating is obsolete...
i have *** on an empty stomach...
emptied by a dry cider... 750ml walked
around... with some whiskey...
dating... ugh... i am: LIBERATED!
i don't have to fight for any country i'm supposedly
assigned to... i don't have to marry!
i can love the children of strangers like
they might be my own! i, am, freed!
from obligations of matrimony!

**** me... i'm freer than freedom could possibly
allow me to be!
women have paved a way to true freedom!
they think themselves freed...
but they didn't realise how freed up i've become!
i don't have to pay that infamous bachelors' tax
anymore! renowned in Poland...
i can **** prostitutes on a whim!
wow! this is freedom?! wow!
more, please! more!

           great bargaining tactic: woman!
i can do the Pontius Pilate on your *** and no one will
even begin blinking a counter-argument!
amazing... i'm glad both of us will
prosper from: your demands...
my lack of: demands...
                  now i can freely **** around without
having to listen to you having a monopoly of
me even thinking that i have a monopoly
to **** around! beau-ti-ful!
more! more! more!                     more!

thank you... it's as if i was dealt a hand in Poker
with a Poker... it's *******: glorifyingly:
poetically: majestic!
       i love it... more please...
                    
eh... 20 males to 1 woman...
doesn't bother me...
                they taste: sorry... female *****
taste better with more ****** partners...
nature: sort of weird...
oh sure: the more ****** partners a woman has?
the better her ****** juices taste...
her **** becomes equivalent to a leather chair...
like all leather: fresh... ****** leather?
smells disgusting... the more it's worn down?
the better the quality...
plus... the better her *** is...
*** with virgins is boring...
*** with virgins is intimidating for
normal men: there's always that... sense of...
authority from prior experience:
teaching... i don't understand why women
succumb to those pedohphile perverts to teach them
nothing at all...  

then again... what do i care?
it's like that article in the Saturday Times...
a woman in her 40s was left gloating:
but i have 3 loves in their 20s greedily..
hell: i can compete:
what's free? these days?"
i can compete... i earn money to spend on
prostitutes who will subsequently
invest money in this economy...

it's too hot... i think i need to sleep
in the garden under the blooming moon...
spiders and ants might crawl into my nostrils
into my mouth and into my ears...
no matter, i'll cool off...
             but i feel: i feel!

so liberated from modern woman!
i don't need her: i don't own her...
        thank you! modern woman!
       THANK YOU!
                         while your old school sisters
practice prostitution: i'm just: dandy: fine...
thank you!
      i believe in euthanasia
and the idea that i'm not going to be
your next petty grandpa...
                     the cruel realities of the REAL...
what?!

***
Such a simple three letter word
Can carry such a heavy meaning
It can be your gender
Man or woman isn’t simple enough
You can be anything
And that’s amazing
But this is all
***

I remember in 5th grade
*** Education Class
We sat blushing
Listening to all the official crap
We listened and heard
But I couldn’t get it
This was boring and weird
This could not be ***
The thing we weren’t saying
This could not be that
*** made me shiver
*** was interesting
This was mind-numbing
So I asked in my innocence
What about ***?

And she answered, all of this is ***.

What a lie.

All of this was not ***
This was the start of ***
This was the blueprint scientific analysis
*** is more.

*** is that feeling
That starts in your gut and spreads south
*** is your palms sweaty
Because that guy stood so close
*** is a boy running his hand along your leg
*** is a girl hiding to kiss you
*** is every feeling you feel
Everything that can take your breath away
*** is all of that

And if you live right
*** is life

Because life should take your breath away
Life is a feeling
All of that
Life is the running the hiding
Life is the situation
Life is beautiful
Life is ***