The breeze from my fan gently caresses my body.
I am engulfed in the sweetness of the silence
and the ***** of the dark.
It's twenty-eight past one and I'm wide awake.
It isn't insomnia that overwhelms me on this night.
It is the thought of my queens stepping off their thrones
for me.
Mother and grandmother will be united with their prized possession in mere moments;
well moments are actually hours,
but time is slipping through my fingers.
Who would have thought that on the first of August,
a single visit from a family member could make me feel this way?
Happiness truly does exist when you wait for it.
He sure is a trickster in the world of imagination:
He hides for such a long time and makes it appear as if he has gone,
but he's not.
He's watching every move
and after a few cases of disphoric actions occur,
Happiness, accompanied by Karma, jump out to save their children.
It's beautiful,
also quite irritating,
but beautiful, all the same.
This is just the way of the world.
The sooner one comes to this realization,
the sooner they will be content with their own being.

can't even remember what
i was learning,
   this old japanese teacher really
motivated an exercise ethic,
although his older pupils weren't
exactly: pristine artefacts...
oh sure, i can show you a trick
of twisting an arm
with the focus of crossed thumbs
pressing against an opponent's
knuckes...
      and we used to pretend
to be sitting, while standing up...
quasi-sumo...
  then came a bicycle craze,
probably the only sport i ever
had the capacity to enjoy...
apart from the current:
                        boxing the liver,
the whole: mind-over-matter
                                    experiment...
and god, i love the guy,
    who?
                                   joe roran...
but whenever he gives his
advice, his ultimatum: solution
about taking up martial arts?
    i sort of cringe...
                the original teacher,
***., sure, he was great,
     but when he fell ill and was
absent from one of the classes,
              and his pupils took over...
for some reason i didn't have it
in me to hark out a: HA while
doing pointless hand-chopping
and whatever, other gesture that we
did while doing our marching
orders...
                what has vocals to do with
a moving body disguised in
impeding phantoms worthy
   of settling affairs of receiving a bruise?
a plum just beneath the eye?
     i don't know what's
    right about being kicked in the *****...
by a pupil of the "grand" sensei...
   not when you're, what,
   14... and the pupil is way past 2-
                     on the scale of "timing"...
no wonder...
   started writing poetry,
grew a ******* instead of keeping
   the sack and non-disphoric modus
operandi...
              now i get to box my liver
and i'm "supposed"
   to feel an alignment toward
a moral "obligation" of: hedonism with
a pinch of shame?
       hell...
           i'd have loved to have
        continued learning martial arts...
but getting kicked in the *****
           is... slightly stretching the imagination
as to why i didn't abide by
                          an ambition...
           as ever, solo, on a bicycle...
either that or swimming...
      but even attaining a ******-status
of being allowed entry into the garden
i was subsequently kicked out...
   and my! with what a mighty gesture...
all that i was left with was
                             a tarnished name...
                    no wonder i have a death-wish...
scraps and leeches...
               yet at precisely that point:
i learned how to laugh...
       because giving a ****, at that point:
became all too, meaningless.