I heard faint noises downstairs, and I decided to investigate. I pulled on a pair of cut-off jeans and grabbed the old pump shotgun that had served me so well in Viet-Nam from under my bed and crept downstairs to check. My Ranger training came into play, and I moved soundlessly, down the stairs and into the living room. An air of vague shadowy figures were searching through the cabinet that housed my collection of antique silver. I announced my presence in a sudden and intimidating manner: I merely pumped the action of the shotgun, then immediately moved to the right so if anyone shot, he would shoot where I had been, not where I was now. That sound was a language that everyone understood, including the two figures before me. They froze, and were still motionless.

"Mr. Steve?" one of the figures quavered. "Please don't shoot!"

I recognized the voice as belonging to Lisa, the twenty-year-old daughter of my nearest neighbor. I didn't know who the other person was or who else may be in the house, so I kept the shotgun pointed in their direction and hit the light switch with my free hand. Immediately a car cranked up in my driveway, and tires squealing, raced out to the road and away. I looked at my midnight visitors. I recognized Lisa and Julie, who was a close friend of Lisa's and a frequent overnight visitor of hers. They were holding between them a laundry bag containing most of my silver collection. I lowered the muzzle of the cut down shotgun.

"You sure know how to get yourselves killed," I stated. "Mind telling me who was in the car? You don't want to take the rap all by yourselves."

"Please don't shoot! That was Mike, it was all his idea! He made us do it! He said he would put us out and make us walk home if we didn't do it! Are you going to call the Cops?"

Now I could understand why the girls tried to burglarize my home. It was a fifteen-mile walk home in pitch darkness on a moon-less night for the two frightened girls. It was just what a worthless **** like Mike would pull. Knowing what I did about Lisa's boyfriend, I knew what he probably needed the money for. He was nineteen; the only job he had ever had was selling drugs, and I don't mean at the pharmacy. He was a charmer though. Girls fell for his good looks and his charm, and would do anything for him, and he of course chose the best looking one of the bunch, Lisa. She never realized what a slime-ball he really was. The problem was that Lisa didn't have a father to threaten to put a bullet in Mike's behind, and her mother was just as deceived as she was.

"You broke into my house and attempted to steal my belongings. Why shouldn't I?" I said with false sternness. I wouldn't really turn them in, now that I knew the situation. I would give the girls a good scare, then a ride home. Maybe then Lisa would see through Mike's veneer.

"Because we'll do anything you want," Julie offered, speaking for the first time. "Anything at all!"

Julie stepped over and ran her hand up my leg, pausing to tweak the head of my ****, which was hanging out of the leg of my cutoffs. I hadn't bothered to pull on any underwear. Julie was almost as good looking as Lisa was. Both girls had fabulous bodies, large firm ****, and smooth well-rounded *****. Julie had a cute face, whereas Lisa was absolutely beautiful.

"Yes, anything you want to do!" Lisa agreed.

The girls weren't wanton *****, but scared out of their wits and taking the only way out that they could think of. Of course they weren't virgins. It hadn't occurred to me to take advantage of the girls like this, and I would have declined Julie's offer if she hadn't fooled with my **** like that. You see, I was developing an outrageous *******, and with my **** hanging down the leg of some fairly tight shorts, the situation was rapidly becoming painful and serious. I had to get those pants off fast! Also, I hadn't been laid in quite a while. I decided to lay my cards on the line.

"You kids know me. I never had any intention of calling the Cops. I was going to give you a scare to teach you a lesson, then drive you home. Does that mean the offer is withdrawn?"

The girls looked at each other and both breathed a sigh of relief, big smiles on their faces. Lisa winked at Julie. "Nope," Julie said, smiling, "It still stands. Lets go upstairs."

I escorted the girls to my bedroom, pressed the magazine block on the shotgun, pumped out the shell that was still in the chamber, then put it back in the magazine. I tossed it onto the dresser with a loud thump.

I turned around and both girls were stark naked. Lisa came over, dropped to her knees, and planted a wet kiss on the head of my painfully throbbing ****. My ******* became harder still. I had to get out of those cutoffs! Julie solved that problem. She unzipped and unbuttoned them and gently worked them down around my rock-hard ****, allowing it to spring up to freedom.

"Lets get on the bed first," I suggested, "Then we have fun."

"Lay down on your back," Lisa insisted. "Have we got something for you!"

I complied, and Lisa leaned over and put my **** in her hot mouth. Her tongue swirled over the head, ran up and down the shaft, and started over again. I looked over at Julie and she was watching avidly. Not having anything better to do with my hands, I reached between her legs and caressed her ****. Julie gasped with surprise, then spread her legs. Her **** was already hot and wet, so I slid my ******* in all the way, then started finger ******* her and massaging her **** with my thumb. Her **** hardened and grew. Julie had her eyes closed and was erotically tweaking her ***** *******. She was slowly lowering her body, deepening the ******* of my finger, and rocking her hips back and forth, intensifying the stroking of her ****. Julie's hot ***** juices ran down my hand while Lisa's mouth was still working on my throbbing ****.

I began to draw my hand from Julie's sopping wet ****, but she grabbed it and held it tightly to her crotch. I pulled my hand now, and she came with it. I grabbed her thigh and swung her leg over me, so she was now sitting on my chest. I pulled my finger from her hungry ****, grabbed her ***, and pulled her ****** right up to my face. As soon as I flicked her **** with the tip of my tongue, she went wild, ******* my face, filling my nostrils with the sweet aroma of her **** juices. I thought I would give her all the licking she could handle. I rammed my tongue into her ****-hole with all my might, then gently nibbled on her ****. Apparently she had a low threshold, as this was all she could stand.

"Oh God, I'm coming!" she screamed, ground her **** into my face one more time, quivered, then collapsed sideways onto the bed.

One down, one to go. I looked at Lisa, still ******* my **** for all she was worth. I was nearing the end of my endurance, and I still hadn't had my **** in any hot **** yet. I grabbed Lisa's shoulders and pulled her mouth from my ****. I turned her around and held her up, her blonde ***** triangle just inches over my waiting tool.

"Give it to her! Now!" Julie whispered.

Lisa's **** didn't look wet or ready to take anything in it yet, but my **** was ready to take some *****. Julie reached over and spread the lips to Lisa's still dry *****, and began tweaking her ****. Lisa gasped her surprise at her most private place being touched by another chick. Within seconds though, her **** and inner ***** lips began to swell, and her juices started flowing. I slowly lowered Lisa to my rod, admiring her glistening pinkness. Julie guided my throbbing rod into Lisa's wet love hole.

"Please, be careful! Ah-h-h-h! Go slow, I'm so tight!"

I lowered Lisa very carefully, for her hot ****-hole was indeed the tightest ***** I had ever felt. With that in mind, I fought the urge to slam her down on my eager ****. As soon as she was down, I grabbed her *** and began sliding her back and forth. Lisa bit her lip as a tear trickled down from one eye.

"Stop, Mr. Steve! It's hurting her!" Julie commanded. Then to Lisa, "You haven't done it much, have you?"

"Just once, with Mike, and he isn't this big. It hurt then, too!" Lisa sobbed. "I wanted so bad to do it with Mr. Steve because he's been so nice to me, and I was so scared when I saw how big he was. Oh, it hurts!"

"You'd better get up then." I reassured, "I don't want to do anything to you that you don't want me to do."

"I want to go on, really I do! But don't you have anything I could use to make it easier?"

"Yeah, any Vaseline, or KY jelly, or something like that?" Julie asked.

"I have some KY jelly in the bathroom." I answered.

Julie jumped up and padded into the bathroom. I watched her naked *** jiggle as she left.

"You're gonna have to get up." I told Lisa. I gently lifted her ***. She bit her lip again and moaned as my **** slowly withdrew from her tortured hole. With a pop from her *****, a shriek burst from her lips as my **** sprung from her nearly dry ****-hole. She knelt on the bed next to me, softly crying, clutching herself where it hurt. I realized that she had been wrong in pretending to be so eager. A more gentle approach was needed.

I reached over, pulled her to me, and kissed her lips passionately. She ****** once in surprise, then melted into my arms, returning my kiss, forgetting the pain in her ****. I ran my hand around to her firm **** and gently stroked her *******, feeling them harden under my touch. I pulled my mouth from hers and kissed the point of each hard ******. She moaned and gasped with each touch of my lips, but from pleasure this time, not from pain. While I had her aroused, I lightly traced circles on her tummy with my finger, each circle going lower and lower, until I finally reached the blonde **** of her ***** hair. Slowly, I reached down and cupped her ***** with my hand, being careful not to press too hard or insert my finger. I would know when she was ready for *******. She responded with a **** and a gasp. I pressed again, and she gasped again. I kissed each firm ****** one last time, then started kissing down her tummy to her love nest, which was now warming and starting to respond to my touch.

I spread her legs and gently ran the tip of my tongue the full length of her slit. When I reached the vicinity of her ****, she reacted as though she had been shocked. She arched her back, pressing her **** against my face. Maybe she was ready. I probed again with my tongue, harder this time, hard enough to separate her ****-lips and tickle her ****. She went mad again, jerking and twitching in response to the touch of my tongue, moaning and panting. Then I felt her **** harden, her inner lips swell and spread, and her delicious juices start to flow. Now she was definitely ready for more. I probed her ****-hole with my tongue, licked all the way up to her ****, swirled it around, bit it gently, and then probed her hole again. When I started doing all this, she went even wilder. She spread her legs, ****** and reared against my face, and pulled my head tight against her hot cooze.

"Oh-h-h-h-h, **** me," she moaned, "I can't stand it any more! I don't care if it does hurt! Please, please **** me!"

I put her throbbing **** between my lips and gave it one hard ****, drawing it completely into my mouth, and pulled my head back sharply, causing her **** to pop back. She screamed, ****** her hips at me, and grabbed her sweating *******.

When she had subsided, her legs still spread, I mounted her in the traditional position. I started to position my throbbing pole for a gentle entry, but Lisa released her **** and spread her ****-lips with one hand and guided my tool to her sopping wet ****-hole with the other. She was much wetter now than when Julie diddled her ****, wet enough to ****.

"Please do it now!" Lisa pleaded.

I began to insert my **** cautiously, and found that due to her juices, entry was no problem. Lisa groaned like a ****** as I slid into her hot wetness. When she had taken as much of my ten-inch tool as she could, I still wasn't all the way in. But she began pumping her hips, causing the swollen head of my **** to ram against the back of her *****. She was as deliciously tight as before, but she must have been stretching, for with just a few strokes, my ***** were slapping against her ***, and I was in to the hilt. My tenderness and foreplay had paid off.

"Oh-h-h-h, that's good!" she purred when I began pumping to meet her rhythm. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and was pumping as hard as I was. With each stroke, I would completely withdraw from her hot, tight wetness, then shove my eager tool back in to the hilt, never missing her voracious target, always sliding easily in, jamming against the back of her *****.

Her pumping increased in tempo, and I sped up to match. Each pump became harder and more frantic than the one before. Lisa's breathing became harder and faster. She was about to come, and I wanted to come with her. I raised her legs over my shoulders so that I had a better angle at the depths of her tight hole, and started ramming as hard as I could.

"Don't stop! I think I'm gonna come! Oh-h-h, its so good! Come in me! Oh, please, I want to feel your load in me!" Lisa screamed. She bucked and reared and screamed incoherently, then went limp. I continued to pump. In just a few seconds, she began to pump anew. For more times than I could count, she orgasmed.

Once I felt my ****** approaching, I gave her one last hard ram and drove my weapon in as far as I could. I came at this point, spurting her sweet, tender Steve **** full of my hot sticky come, like an erupting volcano. She gasped, trembled, and fell back to the bed. I pulled out my softening ****. Our ****** energies were spent for the moment.

I glanced down at the foot of the bed, and saw Julie, whom I had forgotten. She sat in the chair at the foot of the bed, her legs spread, working a coke bottle in and out of her *****. She had found the KY jelly, then found us ******* away. Feeling left out but excited by the ****** sight of her best friend getting a good *******, she slicked up the coke bottle and began using it as a *****.

I saw that Lisa also was seeing something she had never seen before, her best friend's ****, gaping open, a coke bottle almost disappearing inside it. "Look how far in she puts it! And see how big it is to go in her like that. How does she do it?" Lisa asked, amazed.

"Why don't you get a closer look," I suggested. "Ask her." Lisa crawled down to the foot of the bed and sat on the end, astounded, watching Julie *******.

Julie finally looked down, under heavy-lidded eyes and saw Lisa so close. "Why don't you do this for me?" Julie asked.

"How?" Lisa queried.

"Just do what I'm doing now," came Julie's reply. Lisa watched for a few seconds more, then pushed Julie's hand aside and grasped the slippery end of the bottle. "In and out, and twist it a little bit. Oh, yes-s-s, oh, yes-s-s. Do it good, oh, that's so good!" Julie purred.

My **** was hardening again at the sight of one female ******* another.

I had an idea. If Julie was as promiscuous as she seemed, she might not object to what I had in mind. While Lisa continued to work the bottle in Julie's stretched ****, I helped Julie out of the chair and down to the floor, her heaving **** on the floor, her *** up in the air. She stayed in the position, crooning wordlessly, **** juice dribbling down her thighs, Lisa still ******* her.

I picked up the tube of KY jelly that Julie had used, and liberally covered my ***** rod with it. Then I stood behind Julie, straddling Lisa.

"What are you going to do?" Lisa asked.

"Watch and see!" I responded. With that I grasped Julie's hips and aimed my **** at the delicate rosette of Julie's ***. Using my **** like a weapon, I suddenly shoved my tool in as far as I could. Julie let out a scream, tearing out fistfuls of carpet.

"Oh God, **** my ***! That hurts so good! **** me harder, give me all you've got! Make it hurt! Give me more of that bottle!"

"I'm ***-******* Julie!" I informed Lisa, who was now completely mind-blown.

I needed no invitation, and neither did Lisa. Both of us gave Julie all we could, Lisa with the bottle in Julie's ****, me with my **** far up Julie's clenching ***. Julie rocked back to take us both in, then forward, then back for more. I couldn't see

She was so, what's the word I'm looking for?
  not *****, some would say submissive.
There is no way she was that, more *******.
But she never let it show, she'd have a way of
controlling the situation to make you think you
        were in charge...

How could I explain it? more like your in a desert,
         thirsty and see a fountain in the distance.
Running towards it your strength disperses,
  and you believe what you see even though your
            swallowing the passing of time.

Even as you choke, you still believe you've
quenched your, I mean her thirst.
          If she was poker, she'd have the winning
hand every time...

So back to the moment at hand, she was so dam
         rough, I had scratches that looked like I'd
had a sleepover at Elm Street.
I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it...
I liked it when she made me trickle.


That itch while at work, as my back
was healing, it turned me on knowing
that she still lingered even though we
weren't near.
       She had this suffocation issue,
but it was kinker than just naked...
        

It was in a summer dress,
                    and only in the summer.
Like she was seasonal?
I'd lift her dress up. she was pantiless.
           But before that, my hands were even
within her thighs, she was damper than
the grand canyon dry around the edges,
       but between she flowed...

There was no finesse it was all or nothing,
     no gentle hands, deep and hard were her ways.
She knew what she liked. But like a drug,
Its strength diminishes over time,
and the thrill was now near non-existent.  
And a frustrated woman isn't one to be trifled with.

So we got others involved, ones that had
the same suffocating view on life.
Constricted on the normality of ***.
The first one, ***. It was embarrassing.
  We'd guest they were more inquisitive
         than had done it before.

We'd had them sign a waiver on the obligation
of what it entailed. A few drinks later,
Ok, more than a few and it was a melting ***
         of flesh, we were all over each other.
      She strangled my other half one-handed
constricting her flow of air, the other fingers
in her mouth being ****** erotically.

I'd never thought of how ****** this would be,
it didn't matter that it was a woman,
the fact she was arching so much.
All because of another stifling her breath.
                    I had my fun though I was deep
in the other,  **** deep as she didn't want to
be penetrated in her flower, she likes her petals clean??
   My other half could see me over the other'ss shoulder.

Enjoying the fact of both woman were in my bed,
              I was getting close, and then it changed.
She saw that I was about to pleasured by another.
Her hands clasped around our new acquaintance.
For such a petite figure she had a grasp like a clamp.

I felt her clench around my external offering,
           and the smile off my other, it was suffocatingly  
pleasurable. All three of us slumped at the same time.
The bedsheet was drizzly with the fulfillment
  of all three of us. I'd never experienced such a
moment, it was unexplainably fulfilling.

We rested for a moment, and then as I pulled myself
from this sweaty gathering, I needed to ***.
I know wow how romantic, But you open a valve,
waters going to pour eventually.
   Walking back to the bed all smiles.
     She looked at me with fear, but with a hint of
excitement.
                    
"She's dead,

                            "What dead tired?

  "No you ****-wit, as in you just pleasured
yourself up a corpse you necrophilic *****...

I laughed, as I jumped into bed thinking she
was hoaxing me. But she wasn't moving.
  Holy crap that was an ****** to die for??
  She looked at me sheepishly, no not really I got
kind of confused, she was strangling me and i
was so turned on.

But then I saw you about to lift off, and I didn't
like the fact that it was in another and not me.
So I tightened my grip, I heard her throat crunch
under the pressure, and she came,
either in exhilaration or that she'd just died...
Is it wrong that it was a multiple's!!

I've had doubles with you but that,
                                               I'm still twitching.
Oh' not to the fact that there was a dead blonde
in our bed. But the fact she had a multiple with a dead
woman on top. I brushed that thought away as we
had more concerning things,

I said to her,

"Do we phone the police,
             she signed the waiver?

"Do we phone the police!

  She said in a sarcastic manner raising her brow,
  
I could never do that dam thing, she was like
a **** trekky when she did that Mmm..
        I'd live long and **** the **** out her in
that cosplay outfit, pity I broke the ears last time.

Crap, I'm getting distracted.

I  could see where she was ******* from,
       why the hell does the dead woman have
***** *******,  whoops my toothpick just
became a great redwood again.

Are you getting stiff off seeing a dead woman's
******* you freak? They are kind of just there,
As she lent across and licked them.
         Oh, there cold, she looked at me
in her I'm ***** look.  We shouldn't waste an
opportunity really, as she opened her legs
and maneuvered her so she could scissor her.

What you waiting for, put your piece in her gob,
her mouth cold against it, but moist enough
that I face ****** her till we both got close
            kissing each other and ******* at the same
time, wow that was intense,
                                        we both sheepishly smiled.

We both got in the shower, the bed damp still from
                  when all three were breathing but her
head slumped to the side and you could see it dripping
out her mouth as if she was sleeping and  drooling
                       on the pillow.. that's gross.

After we were all cleaned up, we had to decide
what to do, the police wasn't an option.
   We'd watched enough dexters to know that
cutting her up was going to be way too messy..
And last time I got a paper cut I fainted.

Grabbing some cling film out the cupboard I started
To wrap her up, beforehand we went to the store
and brought 15 liters of bleach. I used a kitchen
a utensil  with a short straw-like funnel and proceed
to bleach the inside of her ****.. and gave here a detol
mouth wash, we put the rest in the bath and put
her in there, she hadn't started decomposing and
rigor mortis wasn't overly making her stiff like a plank
so she easily sank to the bottom.

After lunch we let the water out, god she looked clean.
But her eyes had become white, like ghost white
staring at me, like she'd known what we did to her.
I tried closing her eyelids but they wouldn't shut,
so I used a permanent marker to color them in..
   What was I thinking, now she looks ****** possessed.
Drying off was like a ritual we were gentle and making
sure her hair was brushed nicely.


Then with the 6 boxes of cling film, we wrapped
her up nice and tightly.
Crossing her arms over her chest seemed like
a nice thing to do. You never realize when
someone says dead weight, just how heavy that is.
We did that nursery rhyme as we threw her in the boot,

A leg and a wing to see the king and yeet...
    I gave her a 7.5 for landing. As we drove off
we took the map out, using sat-nav was a no, no
as we could have our steps traced back.
   There was an old coal mine just twenty minutes
away, what was cool was that there was an opening
that was so deep but not many knew about it.

I know how convenient is that. We parked up and
we knew we'd have to be quick so I slung her over
my shoulder, walking along I got really damp?

"Babe, what the hell is going on?
                     "Is she peeing on me?

I started to gag, but then the bleach smell hit!
       Phew! she was leaking bleach all over my jeans.
Thank **** for that, I knew these were going
to be burnt later anyway and had a spare pair in
the boot just in case. What I come prepared.

As we got to the opening a couple was standing there
throwing a rolled-up rug down the hole?
we both just looked at each other, what's up?
                              Nothing
What's up with you?
                     Nothing!
We just smiled and dropped our cling film roll
down the same hole. they pulled a knife we pulled
a baseball bat out.

Look, we know what we've both done,
   and if we walk away now you, we,
well neither of us will get hurt or have to throw the
others down that hole. How about the saying.
You didn't see it, so it didn't happen,?

They walked off, we walked off calmly.
That went a lot better than I thought as I laughed.
But just as we got to the car we heard a twig snap
right behind us, out of instinct I swung hard
catching him square in the temple.
as he fell he landing on his accomplice.
She was screaming Oh'my god help me..

My other half leaned over her, foot on her wrist
pulling the knife out her hand.. What were you
going to do with this then.

            "*******, she yelled.

No how about I mouth *******,
and with that, she raised the knife up
and shoved it into the hilt of her mouth.
God, i love this woman.
   As she lay there gurgling..
I mean the noise was nasty..
  So she just trod on her throat and silence.

We looked at each other, and started kissing,
    and before you knew it we had steamy windows
handprints visible to what had perspired in here.
As we got redressed and the tension now reduced
we dragged these two both to the hole.
I mean  my girl just grabbed his feet and like
luggage threw him in. She's so awesome.

You do realize we got from accidental murders
to nearly serial killers now.
And you know what it was such a turn on.
     I must admit we were both turned on by death.
We found their car and drove both down the country
lanes making sure that cameras were nowhere near.
We burnt it out, but not before doing donuts in a field
to make it look like joyriders had stolen it..

After that, we had plenty more lovers, false addresses
to entice, and snare our next lover into false security.
We got tech-savvy as well, in the car we had a scrambler
that blocked their mobiles. most didn't even notice
they lost signal, some did and were over-cautious
                   If they didn't come then unlucky them.

But we remembered that everything was to happen
in the bedroom. Gosh that coal mine is now a mosh pit
of broken voices, that crunch just as we orgasmed.
  That never got old, as everyone was different some
***, others ****** them selfs, that was new and gross.
But luckily we had mattress protectors on and plenty
more in the cupboard. To date, we must have made
love and silenced at least 12 over the last few years.

Only in the summer though,
  and the dresses, god she looks so hot...

Got to go through as our new friend
just turned up in guess what in a summer dress
of all things.
           We just looked at each other and smiled.

Drawing things I cannot see,
Listening,
Keenly,
Too the strange things,
Coming from,
the albino dressed pavement smoothed,
Bedroom walls,
Braille textures,
slipping like termites,
or a strange smell,
dancing from the dusty old lady haired vent,
on the ceiling,
Braille raindrops,
escaping from your,
soul window sill,
fog,
gets in the room,
and we light cigarettes,
purple scented totem poled candles,
with out near future,
melting,
and dripping on the wooden counter-top,
which we dip our fingers into,
sticky like petroleum,
sticky like the sap from a forest broken snapped,
tree limb,
which we tasted,
which we ran danced hollered and orgasmed,
like the melting candle,
like the sapped,
broken kansas public tree limb,
and i,
took off your,
orange dress that you stole,
though only a few dollars,
i called bonnie,
you called me paradise,
though we danced gleefully,
in the slums snout snarling broken home windows,
***-holes,untied shoes,untied fathers,lovers planning paradise,
inside the blue 80's oldsmobile,
with the stereo turned low,
low like the quiet hummingbird song,
of making love,
in the cold night,
under trees,
that was old,
and had probably seen many lovers,
come and go,
as its Fall leaves grew wings,
as its,
winters balding scalp,
scattered away,
like a field of dandelions,
or the birds,
that flew from nests,
only to fly south,
or like wise boxcar boxcar dharma bums,
sat on telephone wires,
at the intersection,
where two lovers planned paradise,
in the back-seat,
of a blue Oldsmobile,
and the night,
holy night,
and i,
**** mind wonderer without wings,
or sad singer leather boots harmonica whiskey drinker,
and Her,
white as stars,
dancing in a blind choreographed orchestra,
in the sky,
far,
far,
far,
even the highway,
has no exits,
to see this performance,

So i sit on a rock,
smoking a cigarette,
with a Fools smile,
as I,
watch beauty,
from the Key-hole,
that is,
Solitude.

in fantasy i would **** every woman on earth past present and future in fantasy i would *** in her mouth and she would drink and swallow and love it in fantasy i would **** her ***** *** mouth armpits ears nose anywhere i could slip it in and *** all over her and she would gobble my every drop in fantasy i would spread her open and lick and **** and slurp her furry ***** and ******* until she orgasmed a trillion times in fantasy i would stick my head so far up her ***** i could wear her as a hat in fantasy i would fist her **** and ***** so deep my fingertips could tickle the inside of her tummy in fantasy she would overpower me and *** on me and climb on top and **** and **** my **** and milk me dry and wipe my *** and change my diapers in reality i’m deeply grateful for a glance look just to be noticed a smile friendly word greeting flirt in reality a kiss and hug would feel so good a **** touch would melt me just one special girl would be such an immense exquisite thrill in reality i’m appreciative for anything i can get

****** into my sofa,
The infinite space of it.
The faces of my friends are melting off,
Like heated wax running down a candle stick.

I loaded the universe into a gun,
And I shot myself in the head.
I can not tell if I am breathing.
Am I alive or am I dead?

I’m strapped to the outside of a rocket ship with nothing in the way.
I’m taking off, and I just keep going. Reaching a height higher than heaven.
There’s nothing to orient myself. No time. No space. No self. Nothing but darkness stretching out all around me.
A roar of a million voices are screaming over each other, they’re resonating in my head.
I’ve come into orbit. Everything is beginning to crystalize.

Surrounding me are complex geometrical patterns of love and understanding.
Gibberish wall textures are whispering messages through their feelings.
This is all too much to take in,
It is like the universe orgasmed into my eye.
I just want to go home,
I think I am going to die.

A sense of calm echoes through me,
Probably brought upon by the faces of my long lost family.
They have so much dimension to them,
So beautiful, light and shimmering.
Looking like something out of religious doctrine,
They came out from the open.
Released me into my primal light laser body,
Everybody has been laughing at the joke never spoke.
And now that I get it,
It is infinitely funny.

It is like the sand man blew his sand,
Taking me on a train to dream land.
They are showing me everything,
I can not even begin to understand.
How am I supposed to understand infinity,
When I can barely understand a single moment.

I see God in a head of lettuce.
I feel the earth's rotation,
As I spin around the sun.
God handed me the universe loaded into a revolver,
And fired me into a flashing rainbow shower.
Friday's smoke opera has rendered me dumb.

Bathing in a melting rainbow,
The cosmos is dripping down my skin.
Infinity is stretching out,
And withdrawing within.

I become the colour,
And the colour becomes me.
I am in everything,
And everything is in me.

Coming out of the woodsmen's cloud,
I hear a child screaming out.
I didn't know what it was then,
But now I know what it is about.

The trees are no longer silhouettes,
My destination is not my goal.
I am in the middle,
Wherever I go.

a new piece to my mothers
puzzle....
rather frank and bewildering conversations.

this one regarding ***...
one will admit....
very disconcerting over a breakfast of muesli and cheerio's

her  " your father enjoyed ***, me not as much, i often
just lay there and let him get on with it...it was over quickly enough"

me  reeling internally,
you must understand my mother, the epitome of the straitlaced woman,
sent me to the doctor,
with a group of my peers for 'the talk'.

"oh, um...did you see the whales"

her  " he never forced me tho, he was polite not just any good at it all fumbling and grunting...i don't think
i orgasmed once"

me   * dumbstruck

her*  " after he left, i only had *** once more,
it was so much better...
it was as much about me,
as him.
i orgasmed then...
it was nice.....
but he was married."

me .... who?

her " i suppose it doesn't matter now.
mr clement, bob,
he used to bring the rabbits
and vegies from the farm.

me  "oh.... him" remembering a short statured,  swarthy man
with a kind nature...
and big hands

her  "after that...
i did for myself,
much easier allround..
*** is important in a marriage....good for communicating.
you and ben,
seem to do alright .......

me  " thanks for breakky
mum must get on."

i am so very sure,
i don't want to discuss
my sexlife, as good and rich as it may be.....
with my up till now, prudish
85 year old mother...

even if she,
finally,
wants to talk to me,
about ***..

just way too....disconcerting.

She asked me to whisper.
Come close, she said, and kiss my hair,
Draw my waist to you with a firm hand,
Tempt me with your gift of phrase.

Before I give in, and I will, she said,
Before you begin to undo my buttons, my belt, my wiry clasps,
I want you to handcuff me with a twist of thought out loud,
And make me eager to risk all for love.

Enlist the moon, our friend, she said,
Under his pale shine make my silvery skin shiver,
Offer me an outrage, she begged,

Your words, as they always do, will ignite an unstoppable fuse,
And before your breath tingles my ear,
Before your lips brazen the naked curve of my neck
And rise the hairs on it,
Before your tongue is welcomed into my curious mouth,
Initiate me with intimate details,
Dampen me with clues.

What do you imagine when you are alone, she asked,
Forlorn under a wool-worn blanket with only a handful of regrets,
In your dreams, she insisted,  
Have I danced naked for your friends,
Have I opened and aroused myself at the kitchen table for your early amusement,
Have I watched you eat hot buttered raisin toast,
And orgasmed for you, a loud cry, your coffee still warm,

Ask anything she said,
Do you want me to lift my skirt in a public place,
Wink overtly at other men, and brush them with the back of my hand,
Would you like to tie my arms,
Bend me over the table, slap my *** with your moist palm,
Enter me with rough words and a plea to pull my hair,

Do you want a nun, a naughty neighbour,
An innocent with red cheeks and a look of surprise,
Instruct me, tell me how to misbehave,
Whisper all my names, all the ones you’ve given me,
Make me into two, or three or a thousand

Explore each inside way
And teach me what you crave in immense detail.
There is nothing I won’t do for you, she said
Your wishes, we will inhabit them together.
I love you willfully, unconditionally, she said
It is my way.

where the women back then as fickle, as they are now,
that by going to a ******* i can't tell them apart?
seems so, i must be a lonely sailor, or a man of minor
military rank, to behave as i do.
these women are nothing compared
to prostitutes, at least immune
to the disease of the Freudian madonna-***** complex,
that comes with the current
socio-provocative instances of
a journalistic: aha-uhum-yes and nod,
forget the: i don't quiet follow...
at least with prostitutes my genitals
are working fine and proper,
i don't know why i would ever entertain
that complex in the first place,
or that it should belong in the masculine
frame of mind, and not with a woman,
as that's the area where it resides,
and is intended to reside.
it's pretty fun to watch women these days,
i mean, all the best compliments
come from Bulgarian prostitutes
who say they're Romanian and then
say word through the doors like: harasho...
who would have thought the Bulgars would
speak cyrillic, eh?
     single 9 years and counting...
any regrets?
   yeah, ritual vanking -
can't help it, libido, stress, libido stress,
at least no agency will gladly take to
posting pictures of me ******* with a blank,
literally, a blank expression,
or how i ate the ******.
      and it moved into the genital territory
and i feel nothing but tickle, frost and goosebumbs
all the way from my ******* to my ****...
must be the hernia factor...
  ever had a hernia as a child?
wonder!
          so jesus, circa 0 a.d., had twelve disciples
and a ******* for company:
i guess the gentile women were as fickle as they
are now... esp. after having read this article
about a girl in her early twenties from
the London shrub-urb of SW...
                   Kew gardens mafia...
the typical posh tots...
                        oh, did i get my stereotypes wrong?
they're there for a reason,
and you hear the most gratifying words
from prositutes:
this ukranian one said i was a good man,
when we stopped ******* and lay there
in a naked embrace and i was left with
nothing else better to do than kiss her...
  and when the conquest happens
and you wriggle into that faux pas prostitutes
have of not on the lips... magic!
i just swallowed a hundred ***** in one go...
    but the way they get all girly and giggly
and remember when they weren't in
the profession...
but still even greater,
      when she ******* and says:
that's only the second time it happened to me...
   that's when **** gets all freaky...
   looking at my hardware... well i probably
couldn't **** an elephant with that...
   but you know: like climbing Nelson's column
in Trafalgar square -
and when saying that's only the second time
she orgasmed in her profession with
the nearly muted ow to express a pain
after a pleasure given, can only give you
a think about fascism...
       i can't believe anything to be more thrilling
than a walk into a brothel,
i **** myself when going into one once,
  had to go home because **** in my underwear
wasn't going to get anyone randy, including
myself...
        it's just so pristine, so clear,
another time i was picked up by this girl at a bus-stop
and we started chatting,
    i already knew where i was going,
she asked where, i lied, and said i was going to
smoke some marijuana with a friend, she asked
if she could come along, i said sure, come along...
on the bus journey i told her in hushes tones
where i was going, by that time she already
invented a boyfriend who played the saxophone...
   a woman, in the dead of night, alone,
no boyfriend...
          then all the puppy-eyed ******* when
we walked past the brothel and i walked her to the end
of the street, and i, without any imagination said:
yeah, and my girlfriend is in there.
             they lament with a man and a harem,
how Solomon disintegrated the kingdom of Judea...
they offend Muhammad who has living descendents
living with us in your current times...
    then they lament: too much choice!
we're opulent in our choices!
   freak accident happens, a man decides...
**** it... if i'm not getting any to reach emptying
my libido and having a boring conversation
with you, aged 50, on a sunday morning with a newspaper:
i'll buy it!
               why not bypass the finicky women
and go for the source of your libido crying?
          i never managed to understand all
the ******* in-between...
                 it's not like these women are selling
me something akin to a scarf...
   9 years on: cats are still better company;
yes, don't worry, i'm planning to sing at my own funeral.
  but when you read such articles,
what's a man to do, either go to a brothel
    or joing the Islamic brotherhood in Syria;
and yes, when i finally become a senile old ***
i'll reflect on, how, this one time,
   i didn't use my hand and was allowed a warm
genital cushion, because i thought that
the dating culture in western society started
becoming too-one-sided, and more or less a freak show.

Breathe in,
And breathe out.
Breathe in,
And breathe out.
Breathe in......
And breathe out.....

*******!

The ear ****** screech of a thousand voices trying to shout over eachother penetrated my ear canals.
I sunk into my sofa,
The infinite space of it.
My friend's faces were melting off,
Like heated wax dripping off of candle sticks.
My sofa seemed to be a portal to hell.
I was sad,
My computer was sad,
My fridge was sad,
My table was sad,
My chair was sad,
Everything was sad.

Everything seemed to dissipate,
revealing the black nothingness behind it all.
Waves of colour exploded around me.
I must have been bathing in a melting rainbow.
This was all too much to take in,
It was like the universe orgasmed into my eye.

I was connected to something other than myself.
Gibberish wall textures whispered enchanting messages through my feelings. Displaying the inner workings of my mind across an infinite landscape of mirrors.
I stepped through a glowing worm, taking me back and forward in time.
They wanted to mend my soul, show the best I could be.
But before I could hear them tell me,
I was spat out by my couch.
Reality begun to mend itself back together,
I am back in my own home.

I saw infinity in a single moment,
And it is now trying to escape me.
I want the world to know what I saw.
If they all saw they would know what I went through,
But I can not recall simply with words alone.
You got to believe me,
When I tell you this story.
Everything made sense to me.
It was all narrowed down to a time frame no longer than the time it takes to microwave a pizza.
I was gone longer than an hour,
I was gone forever.
And now I am back,
Trying you pick up the pieces.

I arrived home early to  surprise, but
the surprise was on me, a car in the
drive who could that be. I went in
quite not knowing who could it be.

I stepped in cautious not knowing
what would await me, I looked in the
living room no one there, but ladies
shoes and two bras different sizes
laying on the floor discarded quickly.

I heard a noise up stairs, and off i went
to see quietly, I went finding discarded
clothes a trail to follow for me. who was
this man was he big small i was about to see.

An ear to the door moaning heard, rage
did flow and I kicked through the door,
to my amazement a woman down on
my wife carpet munching like a king.

Rage and horniness both flowed through me,
as she moaned and screamed as i had found
her deceit she had been keeping from me.

Her friend did turn, Jesus she,s hot, NO
I'M ANGRY no, this is turning me on
they can both see. We were waiting but
had to much drink as you can see, this
is your birthday present from me to you
this is my friend she like both sides of the
fence as you can see.

So all ended well, naked were all three,
My wife orgasmed by a woman,  four by
me. I came home early and caught her in
the act. But I just bounced my wife and
got swallowed by her friend this is my
best birthday, I got a smile from ear to ear..

Cuddled up, feeling her warmth,
Running my hands Up and down,

Caressing her body,
Every bump and curve,
Every twist and turn,
My hands working their
Way down slowly down,

To her hips, pulling her in,
I lean my head into hers
As we slowly touch lips ,

Moving my hand round,
To hold her ****, as we
Rub against each other,
I start to tease my lover,

Stopping for a moment,
I take a step back as I
Unbutton the top button
Of her jeans, and slip

My hand down, rubbing
Her *****, I can feel it
Through her pants,
Getting wetter and wetter,

She starts to moan that this,
Moment couldn’t be better,
I love my hand up and down
Pushing a little bit harder
With my *******

She’s really wet now, I can tell,
I pull my hand up and out,
Then back in, under her pants,
I can feel her freshly shaved,
Naked *****, dribbling onto
My hand,

“She’s so *****!” I think to myself,
As I get an *******, she’s see it,
Shows me some affection, she
Moves her hand down and rubs
My ****, stroking it, it feels so
Right, I might just **** her, tonight,

She carry’s on the rub,
As I start to slip my
Finger in, only just
Breaking through as
I move it back out,
And back in again

I start to push deeper,
Getting faster and
Sharper, I move my
Thumb to play with
Her ****, she moans
A little, I push my
Finger even deeper,

She begins to whimper,
Her legs shake, her grip
Tightens, as she rolls
Her eyes to the back of
Her head, I stop. Pull
My finger out, and go
Back in with two,

This time more to the point,
In and out, in and out,
Still getting deeper,
Still getting harder,
My thumb back playing with
Her ****, she’s moaning now,

Telling me to keep going,
And how good it feels,
I do as asks and keep
Driving my fingers deeper
Into her wet *****,
In and out, in and out,

At this point I’m going
Fast and deep, she
Gonna *** soon,
“Yes! Yes! Yesss!”
She screams as
She begins to ******,

Her abdomen cliches up,
Her ***** tightens,
Her legs stiffen,
She moans once more
And then releases,

Her ***** starts
To leak with ***,
She dripping...

To my surprise she then
Pulls my trousers down
Half way, and my pants
Then begins to stroke my
**** in front of her face,

I want to have *** now,
It’s all I can think about,
“I want to go further”
I tell her...she’s more
Than happy, “**** me”
She orders,

I pull her jeans all
the way down and
Take them off, then
Pull her pants down
To her ankles, bend
Her over, she arches
Her back for me,

I push my **** inside her
Tight ***** dripping
With ***, the first push
In, she moans, I take it
Back out and then go in
Again, and then begin to
**** her,

“Deeper!” She begs as
I burry my **** further
Inside her, getting faster,
It feels so right, she’s so
******* tight, I knew then
I’d always remember tonight,

I keep going, as she begs
For more, she’s moans
Again, and again, telling
Me how good it feels to
Be ****** from behind

She starts panting and
The moans get louder,
She’s gonna *** soon,

I pull my **** out of her
Sweet sweet ***** and
Admire the beauty of her
Naked ***** and ****

I move my hands to her hips
And turn her around, life
One leg up, and then the
Other, she’s surprisingly
Light, and amazing tight,

Pinning her naked back
Against the wall and lifting
Both legs in the air, I
Push my **** inside her
Again, this time I don’t
Give her a chance,

Going straight in,
Fast and deep,
Fast and deep,
She’s loving it,

Biting my neck, digging
Her nails into my back,
Her moans are continuous,
And so so loud, she loves
Being ****** I can tell,

I can feel myself about
To ******, so I stop.
Put her down and she
Goes to sit on the bed
Starts stroking my ****

Back and forth, she’s a
Natural, then she puts
It in her mouth, and starts
To **** backs and forth,
Ooh she’s good at it,

And wave my hands
Through her hair to
The back, and pull
It into a pony tail held
Together by my hand,

Then start pushing her
Mouth, further down my
****, she encourages it
And starts deep *******,
I start moaning “ah yeah”
And within seconds more

It’s over, I came into her
Mouth, she swishes it
Around for a moment
Then swallows,
Ooh she’s good,

But then I look down and
See her beautiful *****,
Still so wet, begging for
More, I kneel down and
Start to finish the job...

I spread her legs apart,
Over of my shoulders,
Nestle my face into her
Crotch area, and begin
To lick in between her
***** and tight,

Short, quick, licks,
After some short time
She starts to push my
Head inwards, I know
She’s wanting it now,

I move my head over
Her ***** and begin...

I start, short, quick licks,
Flicking my tongue around
Her ****, she’s loves it,
Then every so often poking
Deeper with my tongue,
Only just braking through,

I focus my tongue on her ****,
Flicking it around still, then
Move my hand gently up and
Along her thigh, and rub her
***** a bit with my finger,

Then up with the finger, down,
And finally in...then out then in,
Repeating it, ******* her fast
And as deep as my finger while
Playing with her **** with my tongue,

She’s moaning so loud,
Like before her legs stiffen,
Body tenses up and she
Let’s out a scream of
Pleasure, she orgasmed,

I clean my **** off and
Clean her ***** out,
She puts her pants back
On, but leaves her **** out,

I lay down in the bed and
She joins, lays on top of me,
She lays facing me, legs
Either side, bare **** on my
Bare chest, and lays her
Head to the side of mine,
I pull the covers over and
Switch out the lamp leaving
The TV for light,

“That was amazing” she
Quietly whispers in me hear...
“We’re doing it again tomo”
I whisper back, she holds me
Tighter and snuggles into me,
“I love you” she whispers,
“I love you too” I reply.

Certain kinetics are involved when one needs to drain water from the ears. Poolside, you see freshly moistened swimmers bounce, when the laps are over. Head shaking and pinkie probing, along with vigorous jiggling may shimmy a pop of the slurry. It's a pleasing, almost orgasmed, satisfaction. Such accomplishments in life seem trivial, but for something stuck out of place for too long, that releasing can be ecstatic. I figure when this reservoir of penned up annoyances, breaks through the dammed existence I live presently, that surge may jettison and squirt from my head like centrifugal lawn sprinkler. A coming of such the world has never seen.

I'm going to take the time today to think about the things that I like about him. From physical assets to his personality traits. I'm really going to think about it. I'm going to put my phone on airplane mode today. (Gotta have that handy dandy lowes app).

A forethought: If we got back together, I never have thought about the things that I would change sexually for him. I never gave him head enough, and I know he likes it a lot. I'll do it more often on the chance that we'll get back together someday.

Back to the things I like about him. I guess I'll start off with physical.

Its hard to know where to start.
He has almond shaped eyes with long spidery lashes. Sometimes I get lost in their deep cappuccino color. They make me blush. (I blushed tonight when I looked into them before he kissed me). I especially love it when he wears light blue. It makes them pop. He has a strong face. High cheekbones and a wide jaw and strong chin. God he's so ******* handsome. And his skin on his face is textured, but I love it because I think it's unique specifically to him. I think that his smile, though, is something that will warm me up every time I see it. His real smile. It reaches across his whole face, and up to his eyes where they crinkle at the corners. What did Hunny call it? A 'John Denver' smile, because it lights up the room. She's right. I can't help but smile when he smiles.

It's late now. 10:32 PM. A while ago, I got back from brandon's house. We had ***. Rough, amazing ***. Maybe a little passionate too. We both wanted it pretty badly. We both wanted to get our feelings out. He said he didn't really get any out, but I know I did. At the end, when he finished, it took me all I had not to cry. All of my bad feelings left me when I orgasmed. I thought I would be left feeling empty like I normally did when I used *** as my #1 outlet. I wasn't. Everything I had ever known about being happy was what I was left with. I wanted to cuddle up on his chest like I normally do, but I didn't because I knew he didn't want that. I don't even think he wanted me to stay for as long as I did. I wanted to snuggle with him as a way of silently saying "I love you" to him without actually saying it. But I didn't because he would have been uncomfortable. I liked the way he kissed me. He started off gently. Maybe passionately too? I don't know. They weren't just empty kisses. They had feelings behind them, I just don't know what they were. I wish he would have elaborated more on the feelings he let out. Maybe he'll think about them tomorrow. Maybe he'll tell me if he wants to. He made a comment about me being bi. He said "Oh, so you wouldn't date me if I was a woman?" He said it to be funny, but that's not why I remember it. He made it seem like... I don't know. He used the wrong tense, I guess. Like we're still together, even though I know that he didn't think that. He didn't mean that. (For the record, I would still date him either way). I don't know. I don't know anything except that giving him up was by far the biggest regret of my entire life thus far. I've done many regrettable things, but this one takes first place. But for now, not having me around that much seems to put him in a better mood, and whatever makes him happy is something that I will do.

I have to sleep now. I'm so tired.

If you read this, I love you.

i think i once had a broken heart...
i think i was in love once...

i guess it was more about
the great *** -
it's not like we talked much:
she "was" russian
and i "was" a ******...
she might as well have been
a german:

i can imagine how great
it would have been for
the in-laws to have met...
i can only imagine...
thankfully they didn't...

i was once told: if you can't
find a girlfriend in england:
go to india -
advice of a man who
did just that...

i did almost the same...
working with the greenwich meantime...
Novosibirsk...
a girlfriend from Novosibirsk -

glad girl who escaped that
hellhole and made her
way via st. petersburg to edinburgh
and settled...

me poor oddity: boy...
from a... ahem: haha... "village" -
once a pinnacle of metallurgy industry...
those pivotal poles of
the stade de france
were made in my town...
i know so because my grandfather
worked on them...

yes: i think i was in love once...
she was a real homely affair...
she cooked great food... NO!
the *** was bonkers...
one of those summer nights
in st. petersburg we ****** for hours...
i asked her how many times
she orgasmed in that frozen
snapshot of epilepsy...

   a truly materialistic affair of "love"...
she was on her period
that seemed to last a month...
i still managed to encourage
her to do it in the bath with
a ******... sure... flakes of skin...
anything to ease the cramps...

yes - the *** was everything:
as any boy fed *******:
this easily available "taboo" for so many
years prior to: a canvas to work
with: *** before a mirror...
the supposed conversations
we might have had:
i liked the unbearable lightness
of being -
she introduced me to bulgakov
and in extremo -

           i can't possibly write poetry:
i can't fake in instagram disguises:
i am burdened with prose:
listening to music doesn't help
this anti-lyricism -
there's this sludge monster of
a tongue and a hidden formality
that only works with sparkle
for a niche audience:

niche audience! i don't know what
you're doing here...
i frankly don't know what i'm
doing here either...
we're here... souring in memories...
but i want to forgive myself
for: not going down with the titanic...

imagine: i was sent a letter
from a charity that deals with
alcoholics... they asked me to donate
anything between a fiver or a 20 squid pop...
yes...
      greed of charities...
the same like that anglo-saxon
work ethic: when enough saturation
happens and there's only loitering
left...

skin's burning...
i'd like rhyming: i'd also like
a bouncing ball trapped in perpetual motion
of the bounce:
              bounce: pounce... donce...
i agree: i write very little of
what's already nothing...

     caged gargantuan brat i probably
could stand before a mirror
but i could stand before
a painting that distorts the complexity
of a whiteness of both
lie and magic...

"i" am the fisherman and from
the sea of thought i managed to hook
a tackle of a greasy emblem of what:
a hiding protagonist could fathom:
yet this also brings me into:
the great crushing wheel...
caligula smiles: metaphor caligula smiles...
to have to experience these
bouts of automated thinking:
that everything is this:
**** in machina - and to seek god
as the only way out:
superstitious of those not yet
having arrived at
a cosmopolitan sensibility
of packaging **** arguments of:
transcending this nail needs hammering:
this bacon would require frying...

the *** was great...
there was only ***...
      she liked how i became a chameleon
of diacritical marks:
she had an "accent" i couldn't
be pinned...
i noted that: she had that breath
and a tongue that was a bulging
soul...
               i didn't mind:
after all an ****** of "onomatopoeias"
during *******...

*** primo *** primo...
come to think of it:
i don't think i've had deeply concerning
conversations with my mother...
or with any woman...
well... not to reach the crux
of my being:
   lament?
                   all too easily available paper
and a freely agreeing audience...
thank god they do not find themselves
eagerly commenting on
my ball-and-trimmings-of-a-worth-of-trollop...

hyphen compounding of words:
a very anglo-saxon t'ing...
it's hardly german...
it's not like there's a precursor
story with... anglo-swabians...
or anglo-pomeranians...

         write this mediocrity: go to bed early...
no! how could i be this grieving lover...
i couldn't...
yes... i played the stalker for
the odd occasion -
   i couldn't possibly have fathomed
where she went...
i'm mundane matthew who
grew up with dogs:

youth is all about dogs...
started to hit the plateau with cats:
thankfully my home doesn't give off
whiffs of cat **** perfumery -
these cats lounge in a sterile environment...
but she went down a route
of serpents and spiders...

i am a clarity of arachnophobia -
i like this irrationality -
it's not so much an irrational fear: phobia...
as a reflex...
it's what wakes me up to encompass
the body... that can sometimes be lost
to automated thinking or the sometimes:
pensive reflection purpose of:
what thought arrived at when
it was not supposed to be lost
given the ****** summons
of: "work" - i.e. loitering as a security
guard in a supermarket...

i deserve this pseudo-flaubert fate...
madame bovary might be the book...
but anna karenina steals the opening
of all books...
how does it read, from memory:

all the happy families have the same
story: a generic clone...
but all the unhappy families are unique
in that their stories are:
tenured by misery being selective...
anti-verbatim... d'uh...

       someone once championed
the pickwick papers and encouraged me
to read it...
come chapters 30 - 32...
this book was serialised...
it's no don quixote... it might be
for some native...
but then again: i don't remember
anything about don quixote except
that... the windmills happened
prior to page 100...
you'd think that seeing the ludwig minkus
adaptation of ballet at the royal opera
house would jolt my memory...

hell: bolshoi or no bolshoi...
fickle memory...
i have a ceremony of about 10 permanent
memories -
some have arrived up to now
with a fire of permanence...
"memory" is a yet to fade out cliff...
time the sea and the wind...
i still have to challenge the prospect of:
what i want to remember...
well... what i probably must(ard)
in the arithmetic rubric as every child
must...

i know of the people who talk down
you rekindling a memory cinema...
how it drags for so long that you're unable
to dream... or make futurism a
possible quest: what do i have of
a future to bundle up:
stretched within the pressure of now:
                 nought-here...
    from the Omicron to the doughnut of 0...

give me a day where writing is
not necessary - when drink stands alone
and the bed is teasing...
no phantom body of feuds...
i couldn't have possibly moved furthest
to a shackle...

she became anachrophilic and that
was a tarantula in her hand...
it would have to become necessary
to feast on so much of:
well... i stood before a shelf of
the oeuvre of Dumas and... guess...
well... i was expecting
for people to not have read as much...

we're writing we're digging graves...
we're covered by the fact that
some come as journalists...
that thespians will not gradually belong
to the shadows alone:
that this has to be my lot:
i have to settle with
the mediocre: but what's
almost heartbreaking is that...
i didn't become the cost-efficient
purpose of a ceiling...
i supposed this body or this
mind would never have to fail...

      it's so unbecoming to be this:
collage of works best works least
works at all...
the *** was great but then
my arachnophobia would never allow
itself to be coupled with her
petting tarantulas...
so it's not much a broken heart...
it's the willow of whittle dangling
richards taking a bow from
pump action into a custard pit:
flowery itching: eeeeeee...
no coinage to make purpose
of buttering those floral
patterns of flesh...

            rhymes a' eternal:
closure for a meditation on the tetragrammaton:
apostrophe for each surd H -
hatching a "plan"...
come! come join me!
in this eternal furnace of mechanised
will;
well... there's no burden of freedom
in this already prescribed
papacy of guised choices:
a masquerade of: suppose
the serenity of the atmosphere of
the moons..

   a crushing free-fall...
motivational speakeasies -
                    i am sour... almost nostalgic -
there's a definite article of
a past... the past being deservedly so: the...
but there's also the indefinite article
of the future: the future being undeservedly
so...
it's just one of those prized
assets of a tongue:
a grammar and a nuance...

that it was the anglo-saxons...
but not the anglo-swabians...
            let's see how much of a muddle
of mine is deserving my egoistic ploy
to mind the "numbers"...
how much of a muddle i have made
to crave an itch from a stone's
scratching: to detail the whole lot!
for sale! for sale!

my... my my... how miserable this
least expecting consolidation
with mortality...
a freezing over with details
of understood biases...
               i want to call my **** clearly adow my dog...
then again i am reminded:
i like cats because there's no
believability of tokyo cosmopolitanism...
and there's no leash...
if ever i owned a dog i wouldn't
like to also own either a muzzle...
or a leash...

i therefore decline the need to own
dogs...
no... to no one to anyone...
               bark at an echo...
howl at "dutch wood"...
                 i will only don a white shirt
if i can be settle for a sensibility
with... grey creases come
the suggestion of noon.