Sometimes it's difficult to be
Extrasensory
It's like
Being blind in a darkened room
Feeling around with a cane
But knowing
Exactly where everything is
And wondering why
You waste time taking baby steps
It's like
Predicting you will trip over the fold in the carpet
And then doing so anyway even though you're conscious of it
It's like
Experiencing everything
Even the bad things
Twice
Everything a deja vu
It barely surprises me, my mouth open in permanent awe from
Trying to meddle and change the outcome
But always
Failing
It's like
Watching the same movie with the same sad ending
Hoping every new time you press play
The guy wins the race
Or that the lovers won't die
But they do
Every time
Once, twice, a million times
A cinematic premonition
And I don't know why
I keep paying to see this ******* movie.

Right when you feel like you've got things figured out
Life twists and turns and
Leaves you in a rut

I thought I finally found someone that keeps me sane
I thought he was good for me, he doesn't take me on a roller coaster and doesn't let me go to sleep mad
I wanted this so bad and I finally thought I found it

But now I'm sitting here, crying my eyes out
Listening to sad love songs, wondering why I always **** everything up

I have an exam tomorrow but all I can think about is him
and it's ******* me up
I can't think straight

****
I can't even see straight

People can switch up on you real quick, blind-sighting you
Leaving you ****** up
So
Love yourself and always put yourself first

Because it's true that people are temporary
But so are your feelings
This will pass, but protect yourself baby
Know your worth
Know yourself

I’m sorry if you wanted something else;
A rubber stamp, a milquetoast or a sap.
I’m sorry my independent nature is
Like giving your face a hefty slap.
If it seems I am apologizing for myself
To make an excuse for the way things are
Trust me when I tell you what I am sorry for
Is that I have let this thing go on this far.

Dressing up in formal clothes
Won't make us into something fine.
As long as we believe a fantasy
Soon we will cross some kind of line.

I apologize for not recognizing the signs
That told me how you felt about love.
The idea that the two of us are equals
Was a thing you could not rise above.
You couldn’t accept truth was important
And only make what we had implausible.
The kind of relationship you wanted
Was not only wrong, but was impossible.

I guess it got easy for me to fake it
And walk around in a huge pink fog,
Pretending you were a handsome prince
And not accept you were another frog

I don’t believe the truth can be hidden
For but a very short while if at all.
To base a relationship on dishonesty
Will ultimately make the thing fall.
Yes, I ignored the messages you gave me
I’ve been through enough of this to know
That I was part of the reason we failed;
That this is the way it would have to go.

I can’t let you completely off the hook.
Your answers to my questions were a ruse.
I am not equipped with a fairy godmother.
I never had a pair of enchanted shoes.
But I was never wishing for a magic life
Just a hope that love could turn out real.
But one of us can never do it all alone;
Half of it will be about how you feel.

Dressing up in formal clothes
Will not make us into something fine.
As long as we believe a fantasy
Soon we will cross some kind of line.

you navigated around obstacles
over bridges and under waterfalls
til you found yourself safely in my life

i just want to be me; dont tell me how to live
other chose to be gay but that all i have to say
seperated by church and state how could people have faith
republican democrate the economy is tanked for everyone
skin shouldnt matter or if you are fatter
all entitled to rights and live lifestyles
even if they don not sound right to others
we claim to have free speak but cant say anything offensive
why cant the world unite all ppl do is talk smack and fight
complain because everyone wants to be right
losing track of the truth lke a blindsight
people choose a career over marriage and kids
you can mix it up but others wont let you live it up
the life you live and all you give everyone will be happy
once they love themself and find the style that makes them the individual
makes them unique not like the rest in this contry
be whoever you want everyone is different aiming to be the best

It ain't no mountain high-__++
enough heart stickers 2 pluses
But----she's beat like someone's
playdough high setting
diamond in the rough
High level of mercury felt tough
Like the good will hunting

Let's fulfill our dream with
less talking
More snorkeling high hopes
Big escape important titles
Such a Sperling report high crime
she got high hopes
A kiss is not a kiss
Casablanca
Piano many riddles

The delicate mood became the
Joker her low jeweled belly bottom
He could just pinch her
His paint when smoke gets in your long
Eyelashes the temptation her eyes
of infatuation
How he can move
her schoolgirl crush

The mountains
The holiday sweet baked sun cookies
He was lady looker starting
fresh like a rookie

All loving to the end of her earth

The painter Gogh the fine feather brush
Could lift smiles like hot gold rush

Way below I see something
My eyes became the hidden lake,
My body got exposed to the shining light
The Knight high tempo until the daylight
But there is a high price that's all
I could take almost my blindsight
Her body elevated

She sighs the law and order
The highest authority constitution
the movie camera high action
Higher force of her revelation
Like her Crescendo Moon
Hot body stimulation
But she became to see the
lower state of mind taking the
Xanax route

High hopes she touched the
Goddard

The Searching her lips
piercing she losing her grip

What a hot Australian dude swap
Kicking around in his boots the
  rain puddles of love hurdle
The high raft of the tortoise turtles

My heart lies the crescendo
Such a high tempo she screams

Opening up high five
my exclusively yours
Hot five emails to find got
so excited until etc--

A mountain of broken hearts
Luv her favorite journey high
living totally fab
Those hubs and cool London pubs
On the edge of ecstasy but my dark
midnight pup labs jump up the vibe

The earth stood like a still life
The darkness and the red moon
Everything I thought of came true
bleeding
The high sounds of the clock
Striking at midnight
I felt the coach driving up the
Godmother not the fairest of Bees
They were swarming high seas
And left me on my scared knees

Some leftover Crescendo of honey
His chinny chin Big Foot beard-man
High waist lady gold bonds
of money

Howling wolf complex mixture
of her body curves too many

Symphonies playing
Like something never failed
Seeing the beauty rainfall
Mermaid Tail

Like the crest of
Tsunami all the selfie's
MeMe high tea hours
100 feet he could
of very well
wanted so much
to kiss her high-cheeks
But finding the treasure
lips curved-low

Italiano tempered the wicked concert
Concerto higher up temptation
High tempo hot soup
Louisiana red hot tabasco
 You gotta have her gumbo

Going to the Mountaintop
Mr. Concerto meeting
the computer
Mr. Dumbo what an
Mc Jumbo
burger the "Clicker Bar"
The stars eating away
The greens of her eyes
Living in a hut spitting
pits of olives 
 
Spicy ladies of pimento
In young and restless town
Sacramento
She was sitting her name Sofia  
High rise body elevated
The wicker chair (Loren)
Contemplated
Hearing a sharp squeak
of his shoe that is his affair
He was walking
toward her

He fired out pool shark
Like the Crescendo cafe all neck
out like giraffes to dusk at night
Two heads are stirring
better than one smooth
spread Jiffy butter
Enjoying their cappuccino
the flamingo dancers the bodies
sway together to be engaged
Licks of her envelope
He kissed up to her first sip
Hot mouth expresso

The Pacific high tempo soprano
the mountain can be terrific
Be more specific

That girl Marlo with the
 higher latitude in St Thomas
it won't bring back
a love quicker
Our minds get slower
Using her useless hair blower
"Pacific Crest Inn"
Mind controller
Bathing on sun worshipping
What a star turning point

But lower and deserted on an island
Like smoking the sun up with a joint
the Apennines Italy like pennies for
her thought
The lust crest of her waving high
Surrender my love (Silverback)
Glitter silver high tent

Rainforest of Gorillas
Monkey *** swinging and surfing the
High society ladies what a fly-by event
High Apple Martinique the computer
Felt flooded like she could use a drink
Yes we have bruised bananas and
horn-blowers those outfitters
out of their minds towners
They never leave the crazy freeloaders
Shell be coming around your mountain

High tempo voice meet
Tatiana of the  black crow plantation

Feeling the soulful E-Harmony
Coupling eyes of tears Seattle
Cows and sheep all stacks of hay cattle
Right now her salvation she needed
something lighter not exactly higher
The Sierra Nevada crest she looked up
She went back to her Mediterranean villa
Looking at her pearly white teeth
And said what is with all this crest
I have the best hours with
my crest toothpaste lower teeth
being brushed to the higher height of
my top mountain teeth
That crescendo
was my new birth

.
My eyes,
Saw the light in yours
And became
True enlightened.

Fathoms deeper than blindsight


My lips,
Were sunken treasures
You grabbed,
Hoarded from others.

Fathoms deeper than oceans


My flesh,
You sailed uncharted
To bewitching shores,
Only mermaids could dream.

*Fathoms deeper than body

I

I'm trying t' find my ID.
I think I'm missing it.
This thing,
This bright, shining light,
It's hiding in my blindsight.
I'm swimming in mist,
Trying t' find ... "I"

First I'm living
In my crib;
Clinging wrists.

Flitting my crib,
I'm Shy
Crying, whiny twit, missing bitty,
With stinky kids, kicking kitty.

I'm missing my crib.

I'm piling thinking bricks with big kids.
Slimy, smirking ***** hiss 'n' spit.
I'm sitting still in ill-fitting shirts,
shirking sight.
Hiding might blind ****** kids crying, "It's billy!!! Skinny ****!!" 'n' smiling in fits.
"Try finding kind kids x"
Finding "whys" in rising minds.
My mind grinds.
I'm kicking tins, spilling drinks.
Sitting in IT,
Sir chillingly insists "it isn't "fly" spilling drinks! "Shy" brings skills. "Why" brings ills."
I'm still shy.

This crib's tiny.
Tiny minds, blind by bling.
Fit chicks with *******,
Thick ****** thinking with *****.
I flit this Brit ****.
Brisk flight,
I find "I"
Simply shimmying "ir(o)n lik(e) li(o)n in zi(o)n".

In Brit, I'm still shilling it,
Finding thrill in it,
Hiding 'til it lifts.
I'm brisk fixing it,
I'm hiding in drinks,
Finishing in clink.
Trying things,
High by night,
Slinking by, finding light.
Thinking "this is it!! I'm in!"
Tricky light. Light trick. Sight trick.
Lying in my mind
It's still ****.

Is it?

His birth...
This child is my kid!
This brill kid!
I'M in this kid!
Big grin :D

First kid is big kid,
Mid kid is silly kid,
Quickly hitch my Miss.
Third kid. This kid, this girl is my girl.
Brill kids!

I bring my bling by flipping kids thinking bricks;
Fixing bits in thinking ink;
I'm finding it stinks.
Kids drink slick skills.
My mind chills with mind filling drills.
Kids grinding, crying spills -
"Sir, it's **** innit?
With missing mining, missing mills,
Im plying skills by filing bills."

I'm plying skills with mind pills.

Mrs "I" is criticising my id
Im minding my Ps n Qs
Biting my lip
Fists tight, shifting slightly
Slinking nightly
This is ****
Hit slight hitch
Hit BIG hitch
"'kin *****!"
I finish with my Mrs

Kids split 'twixt cribs.
Kids trips fix splits.
Kiss lips ***,
"Night night x"
"Light?"
Click light.
Right, "night!"

I'm hiding my ills in girls.
IT pimps, swiping right.
Primp ****.
Minging swill.
Fit chick.
Swift flirt.
Flirt, kiss, flirt, kiss.
Big ****.
Tight slit.
Milky spit.
Wiping ****.
Hiding ***** sight in mind,
I find it sticks.

I drift

Stick tight
Fighting my plight
Grin
"It's 'right"

Missing my crib
My ID
I'm finding my mind
Sticking with it
Fighting silly flirting ****
Try finding inspiring sights
My kids
My crib
My Inking
My Writing
My mind
My eye

I'm kind

I'm "I"

When the night falls,
and no one’striking with an eye,
My restless horses rove
with the wild Siberian winds,
Their whinnying voices call me,
Voices call me, and I scream!

Slowly, Slowly, my horses!
Do not fly into the wild winds,
Please! Slowly, don’t you see,
I didn’t have time to live!      

Understand me, my horses,
Let me sing! One more song!
Feel my deepest yearning,
for you and for the lost time.

For no time to laugh,
and for no time to cry,
For no time to love,
and no time to touch a
weeping heart.

Please! Listen, my horses,
Do not hurry! Voices call me,
Oh, how you can ride so fast?
Follow my solace in y’footsteps,
Ride on my waters, and
I’ll drink y'golden promise.

Take me on your winter sleigh,
Amble along, dance your shyness
in the wildest Siberian snow flurry,
and I’ll sing you my only song,
“I am not a prisoner.”

Let me sing! One more song!
and I’ll bring’y the apple from heaven,
and I’ll kiss you one last time,
when no one hits with an eye.

Carry me my dear horses,
Slowly, like this, Slowly, please!
When no one hunts in the sky,
and the hungry wind’s blindsight.

Please! My horses,
Slow down, Slow, Slow down,
I am loosing my powers,
and I didn’t have time to live! 

The show comes to the end,
and I can’t hear you galloping,
and I can’t see your cavalcade,
the show comes to the end,
and I lose your reins in the wind.

Please! My horses,
slow down, move slow, listen,
Please!
I didn’t have time to live!

allow me to indulge you with my philosophy
it has become apparent to me that throughout the course of my life
the same question has been imposed upon me
and i have given the same answer
until now
ask me what i believe is to be the greatest feeling that anyone can portray
happiness
it defeats all other sentiments on this earth
it surmounts rage, hate, fear, pain, and dejection
all things that others may find beguiling
i choose to believe they are mistaken
indeed
you can contempt yourself with woe
surround yourself with closed doors, pills, and solitude on the bathroom floor at 3am
you can seal yourself in a package with immeasurable bitterness and agitation
a disclaimer at the very top spelling out
“WARNING DO NOT TOUCH”
you can choose to seek gratification in tarnishing others
transforming yourself as a threat rather than safety
depict the gates of hell out of your insecurities
scorch all those who reach for you
shall i continue?
…
happiness
the apprehension that you wish to unlock
a notion one is granted
yet you choose to form an idea that it cannot be found
even when the key is set out in blindsight
the fundamental of this bias weighs solely on you
releasing yourself from the confinement you’ve been defined by
some may say they await the arrival of another
convincing themselves this “person” renders all qualities to set them loose
secluded by the gravel
there is no outlet without someone to uplift you
but your freedom is not disposed to you by another
happiness is not fed amongst the perception of others
believe me when i tell you
it is rooted from within you
it forms rivers and valleys out of your ache
establishes mountains of your inmost fears

i know of all these things because i myself have felt them
strongly
intensely
lightly
delicately
i spent so long in hiding i forgot the rich sentiment of the sun
i wasted months in the profundity of darkness
the appearance of light itself enthralled me
i shared a room with remorse and regret
revolted for all the things i had said
and all those i didn’t
i released wars amongst my waters
you’d be swept by vigorous currents and devoured by creatures whose only natural instinct was to **** the first thing in their sight
i was a depiction of all the things i wanted least to be
a perfect contradiction to all that i desired and was
yet
i cleansed myself from the agony
that i forgot how rich my skin was after all the dirt and excess was removed
i have grown fields of thorns out of the vexation of the words i spoke
but i discovered once i altered that hate into acceptance
once i deluded myself in self discovery
i was swallowed by hills of daffodils
that seemed to extend for miles and miles
i somehow came to peace with the fact that infinitely deep in all this chaos
there is beauty
i understood once battles have been fought it is for certain best to make amends
and this war
this frightful
terrifying yet
completely mesmerizing war
it was all against myself
and in the midst
i glanced around myself and i saw
so vividly the storm you and everybody else
including my own self
seem so confined in
a confinement we assume defines us
but it does not
because in fact
it entitles us to strength
it gives us a reason to strive for courage
a reason to lose ourselves in order to be found
the convincement that once we reach an everlasting winter within ourselves
we will be unable to walk in the rays of our own sunlight again
we will cease to grasp the howling of the wind
neglected to feel the intensity of it as it nearly sweeps us off our feet
preventing us from feeling and indulging ourselves in the unknown
to laugh to the extent we’re clenching our own stomachs
and droplets of purity leaking from our eyelids
the fulfillment of dancing in our rooms in the middle of the night
when everyone is dead asleep
yet we’re allured into another world of art
finding surrealness with goodness in everything we do and feel
even if at times it isn’t always as easy as we’d like it to be
making it seemingly impossible to view ourselves as more than the sum of our parts
but as the entire landscape of the person we are
to seize every moment and making it our own
creating a canvas with our smile and allowing it to illustrate things we never imagined we could create
but that is untrue in the most tremendous of ways
for i have finally seen myself
aware that there were and are parts of me that are for more prettier to view than the rest
because of this i took cover and hid in shame and ignominy
a wallflower sitting recklessly in darkness
forsaken in her own solitude to even attempt to step foot in the light
but i assure you once i did
once i had found myself
the seed planted within me ages ago
sprouted
beams of the sun showered me in constant radiance
the storms that passed over painted hues on every inch of my skin
that at last
i became a garden of my own
blossoming with begonias, marigolds and sunflowers
a vision of ecstasy to all that passed me
my kaleidoscopic shades fascinated all those in my presence
for i am no longer reluctant with who i am and was
i have found inner peace in the person i am
so go ahead
ask me what i believe to be the greatest feeling anyone can portray
and every single time i shall answer
…
happiness
-c. alejandra

my my, i hope to have replied sooner, in all honesty i wrote a most generous reply yesterday, but by "miracle" or fault i accidently deleted when copying a link and inserting it; now i have to promise myself to write the name of the band / song in CAPITALS, since... well since there's no other jukebox like youtube and the songs are easy to find...

what do i consider beautiful... hmm... i don't think i have much choice in what i can deem beautiful, i'm more prone to succumb to auditory beauty than physical beauty, i don't really see much outside the realm of a sunset or a sunrise, or the sight of the sea at night, in terms of physiognomy, hardly anyone is ever ugly: worn down... a curiosity, but it's never an off-putting sight like a dozen maggot in trash juices...

again: i never understood the argument that men are primarily orientated around sight: sure... when orientating myself in traffic on a bicycle, i am pretty much all eyes, since some music is blasting into my ears from the headphones... aside: *******... i tend to turn off the sound because i know that i'm not attaching myself to a quickie, for the actual act i'd require the sounds... anyways...

DIE SONNE SATAN - DISMAL CHANT...

mmm... i think my song choice can be the perfect antonym for your first song choice, the relic of Novgorod... men being primarily creatures absorbed by the eyes... hardly... what about the story of Odysseus and the mermaids, how his fellow sailors had to have their ears blocked with wax to stop them going mad? i lost over 20kg since my grandfather's death: walking at first, then cycling... yet like a vampire: i hardly recognise this loss on my body... i see my face in the mirror but hardly my body... i only see what the loss looks like in public... you'd guess correctly by a regaining of appeal from the opposite ***... plus... my heart feels like... a sixth of me fizzled out... so no need to take high-blood pressure tablets...


my god: my original was reply was somewhat poetic... this is so blandly prosaic...

my grandparents weren't happy... i'll not go into the details... but no, they weren't happy... they stayed together out of necessity, or, rather... my grandmother stayed with my grandfather because, as the law in Poland dictates... the woman inherits the man's retirement funds... there was nothing luvvy-dubby about their relationship, she was insult him, everything he ever did was wrong, all the improvements in the house were always done wrong... blah blah... on top she was just a rude ***** to him: a part of me is glad he's dead: he's freed from hearing all the venomous nagging, even he once remarked to me: older people shouldn't treat each other like this... months prior i could see in his eyes a consolidation of life itself: a resignation that was teasing at the transcendental... death became a relief for him...

can a man be neglected? erm... i think what's worse for our *** is when we neglect doing something we were passionate about prior... i think that's our biggest worry... for example... i neglected cycling for over 10 years... i put on a lot of weight... now that i've rekindled my obsession with cycling... i'm no longer just someone who cycles... i became enthralled with an art of keeping a bicycle in tip-top condition... change a tire, fix the breaks... one ***** loose here, another loose there... subsequently tightened... oh look: i just came to the same conclusion: a man will tend to focus on things that provide him with some end of a deadlock... i've been a bachelor for... well since my last, ahem "serious" relationship ended when i was 21... she proposed to me... she chose an engagement ring... then broke it off... since 21... now i'm 35... even my mother thought i was bemoaning losing her... i clarified to her that: i was bemoaning losing a part of myself... like the idea of a horcrux... but when you lose a part of yourself to someone who you once loved (rather than killed)... the vercrux... i miss the naive 20 year old... the colt that could buy into romantic flicks... the boy who believed in the cult of Adonis: that women care about a man's looks: and all else would fall into place, come the later years... careers would blossom blah blah...

i hope i'm not being over-dramatic or... however else to put it... i never appreciated country music... it must be an American thing: through & through... i'd go as far as blues... JOHN LEE ****** - IT SERVES ME RIGHT TO SUFFER (1969)... oh my, my my... i had a blue's phase in my late 20s... it's still great to listen to the blues when drinking... SKIP JAMES - HARD TIME KILLIN' FLOOR BLUES... but i have found some country music up my sleeve... HEAVY HANDS - WHERE THE WATER TASTES LIKE WINE...

i couldn't tell you how it might feel for a woman to be neglected in a long term relationship where so many changes could take place that she might... i just don't have the experience, since 21 i've just had encounters with strangers or prostitutes... if any issues... well... i drank too much and couldn't get an *******... which i could correct by going the 2nd night sober... if the maternal side of my grandparents isn't all milk & cookies... my paternal side is... they divorced... if they were even married... and my father was raised by his grandparents... well... a foster-grandfather and a grandmother... a complete & utter mess... but then we're talking Poland circa 1939 through to 1960... and beyond... my parents are an emblem of what a marriage out to be: but then i'm not my father...

i squandered my chances through various rejections, but also embraced my bachelorhood reading philosophy & going to the brothel... i obviously had to sample the "misdeeds" in Amsterdam, phew... everything is so less hush-hush like it's in the anglo-speaking world, i wanted to experience a complete disinhibition from any sort of "misdeeds"...

i hope you see that i don't find anything socially "unacceptable": you are as free reading what i write as not reading it, we can stand on completely opposite plateaus but we can share some common arguments... recently i was listening to this guy talking about how social media is as toxic (if not more) to women as ******* might be to men... but i remember the days when we'd have a school trip to Ypres (Belgium), the WWI graves, the trenches... but we'd have 5 hours spare to buy chocolate & roam the streets... i'd buy a pornographic magazine... a woman would sell it... no fear of shame... out in the open... must be a continental mentality... point being... this guy was saying that social media for women is not like ******* for guys... all it takes is a no. 1, 2 & 3 on the throne of thrones and the rest of the day remains... there's no need to engage in comparisons...

mein gott: the original reply was so much better... i'm all spaghetti-cogito...

i blame it on the country music... no, come to think of it... brown bird - bilgwater... that's a blues-hybrid... there's just that identifiable sound of the accented voice... it's not John Lee ****** singing... i just see a lasso... jeans... a cowboy hat... i'll be converted if i listen to enough of it... HOT TUNA...

lately you don't feel pretty, over to you: tornado... in my realm a butterfly... i rekindled the realm of being desired by schoolgirls...i had a 10+ year hiatus... what island are you on? it can't possibly be the same isles i'm on, among the Welsh sheep-shaggers & Pict wannabes without an iota of Gaelic... as much as it might be a "man's world"... it's also has a gynocentric focus... i know where my lot is... i can be replaced... you, as a woman, have to be tended to, beside all other facts... my freedoms have been invested by social pressures... or, otherwise, my lack of "ambition" or zeal, or... that Darwinism impetus that ought to be prerequisite to further something of the past we supposedly lay a claim to...

but as a solo-dodo project: i am completely unburdened... nay... i am facing a fate that bestows upon me a blindsight... i'm finding myself: more & more content... since it would be impossible for the face of man to cower from its blinding furtherance of obedience to time: to further itself... no different to any other animal... to hell: bring in the post-racial sociey of Brazil of the mulattos... i don't mind: i won't be here... people will sort themselves while my grave pretends to snore for me...

if you can consider me... fiscally... no chance... poetry coughs up once ever 50 years... its not my time... Bukowski had the luck... i couldn't say whether the acumen... i'm entertining the prospect of taking up a job as a security guard at mass events: stadium filling... my ambition would bring me any money... i couldn't imagine toiling & toiling for... shoes... excess shoes... for... holidays on beaches that will, sooner or later... become abandoned by what the "great reset" implies...

you're in your... 40s? i'm in my 30s... i too have criteria... neither of us are teenagers... i wish we were... i could drop my life on a whim and head toward the unknowable: uncertain... laconic little me... i harvest my little entrapments of time spent in solitude... i shouldn't appreciate solitude... but then again i can't never return to a concept of a heart as weak as a mollusk...  i pity my hardened heart, i bemoan the entire politics of antagonism shared between women & men... children... so young as to yet grasp language are so... so... beautiful... even those not my own are so mesmerising!

i might not have children of my own, you said you have an 11 year old girl... it's impossible to pass a public space come 3:30pm in England and not watch schoolgirls...lately i''m dressing like autumn... a harsh brown shirt, heavy... olive trousers... a dark brown t-shirt... mahogany leather shoes... weird looks... side to side... as she exits the bus... one last look... words under her nose... lip-read... you're hot... i could be delusional... i could be... but when it's so ******* blatant...

recently a manicurist / pedicurist entertained my mother... she brought a friendf along... i was inspected... father figure? do i really need to raise someone else's offspring? beside the point... the manicurist brought with her her 11 year old month daughter... i played the nanny... it's a cat, it's a dog... its a child... it's innocence... i realised... being 35... this ought to be the time to concentrate my concept, concern for love to offspring... this isn't a time for... petty romance... petty cosmopolitan fickleness... best attired by well established newspaper talkingheads...

at 35 i ought to forget about my mating partner... i ought to have children by now, & modify my concern for love: gearing up to children... at 35 what was love: ought to diagnose itself as concern: dasein dass neuliebe! i couldn't possibly love a woman like a teenager might: with the thirst of first thirsts! with drunkneness... now, come the children... i might be childless, i might be a bachelor... but with even those offspring alien to me: i can appreciate "petting" and concerning myself over their kept tenderness: before the world: the grinding baron wheel crushes them...

i'm too old for rekindling romance of 20 year old ****-wit-****-anything-
that-moves...
i'd like to have authority over children...
i'd like to love a daughter,
i'd like to love a son...
    not very unlike petting a cat...
but the heartbreak...
of them leaving the "nest":
fully invested in their autonomy,
in their individualism...
what a sore, what an unbearable anchor for:
what's the future of the sails...
what little of the wind(s)...

as said... i can stomach an 11month year old...
i think i could stomach an 11year old...
it would be a freaky experiment...
i did study chemistry undergrad... so...
it would become a fetish...
of unpredictability...
    no... i can be a nanny to an 11month
old toddler...
i don't know whether i can be a substitute
of father to an 11year old child...
that's a key distinction...

i find men above 6ft2 slightly weird...
esp. if they're not built to bulge with their heights...
perhaps in sports... but in the shared experience
of "societal norms": ******* lanky...
spider-conundrums...
sorry... if there's the height...
but there's no mass invoked...
awkward looking: oopses...