You, smile melting into music.
You, smile singing near my ears.
Far away, facing lonesome
season.
I have nowhere to go,
but i know we'll meet in dreams.
That's our secret.

Tender eyes and
perky *****.

You, night swaying in between days.
You, a woman's face in a porcelain body.

Can a bird, when in love,
sing across oceans and mountains
to confess his heartache?

Can you remember
our first kiss?

Sun, rain, moon, heat.
Still awake, or deep asleep.
I know we'll meet in dreams,
and i certanly know i'll find
those
tender eyes and
perky *****.

You do the math and I'll provide the irrationals,
as I tend to cling to panic in the asymmetry of life.
In this Twenty-First century women still suffer
from laws streaming out of councils of men.
These are not self-stabbing heroines,
they do not ask the heavy deluge of derision.
They are faced with laws stemming from an abbatoir,
from men who wish to usurp the birthright.
Men who have become strangers to their own mothers,
men whose ***** dispense a fouled milk,
men who deserve an **** ultrasound colonoscopy.
So, I beg you to balance the inequality of the equation,
gather our sisters in this non-Euclidean space:
this is one we solve by inspection!

What?

What is that you say?

All the roads are one now?

Old children? Paradox?

I think so but then   those are the most fun of all

The spaced out interplay inside of intersections

That wind to the mountain floor and up again to volcanic shores

Cloud forests , cloud atlas , clouds messengers of the dawns ,

I hear a storm is coming , didn’t we say this before?

The dawn is already upon us , we think we’re waiting , we’ve been playing for months

Well hidden , well hidden , we don’t got no tracking devices but the markers of time that are the rising of the sun and the falling of the stars from space swirls near and far

Closer than the nearest galaxy but not as far as Sirius B

With wings that fly by night , the tips burn orange , the shades turn a musky blue , dipping into the silver water the enclosed shoulders

Harbor secrets yet,

Until we meet again my fair friend , again is right now

The full stop is redundant as there never is a full stop , you don’t have to try to decipher what I’m insinuating with my punctuation , there is no deeper meaning to it apart from my keyboard broke

But, then I decided that it could mean something more , that is the core

Nothing ever starts with a meaning we just add more! There is no meaning to this life , but there is a quest, no not a test but a quest



Mine I figured is in my smile  , my ability to weave together the nonsense into sense by calling the sense nonsense and serving the ball back over the net to sense who bats it back with a sharp backhand to nonsense who hits way out to the field beyond, hitting meaning on the head, poor meaning , meaning to have a quiet  nap under the plum tree , sorry! Screams nonsense or was it sense?



Either way , the quest has lead me here , the ultimate quest to make sense out of the nonsense that is my self

Hmmm self , hmmm self, hmm; well it was always going to be self on the highest  shelf  next to the cookie jar,

Oops can’t keep my hands out of the mess that we call blessed or taboo



Lets meander down that avenue for a while and taste the delights of forbidden fruit

Not a melon or a dragon fruit , nor is it a kiwi , infact I shouldn’t think it’s a fruit at all

Far too litteral although they are good for your body

How about for the mind , I feel like my body functions better without the excessive consumption of meat and milk does make me ****

Oops toilet talk , is that rude? I never got that, we all burp and **** and belch and **** and **** and flake off dead skin cells all day long but you never hear anyone complian “ excuse me Jones, but I did just inhale your dead skin cell” well silly moo , you’ve just inhaled jones’s and about everything you can’t see with your very eyes in that last lungfull



So you see, to me why waste time on silly buggers like swear words, change the meaning of them if it offends you so , who said that all the words have to stay the same? Really are we that stagnant ? didn’t some dude shakespere invent a ton of new sayings and no one questioned him! In fact we still use his words now, I’m sure they all thought he was bonkers, but then I guess the queen said it was cool



Hmm , queen bee , not unlike the popular kids at an out lawed place called school , dictating her orders through her minions – my definition of minions : cute slaves



The same story played out over and over well I wonder why , if we only see what others like and refuse to explore the unknown in our own right? Perhaps we just didn’t realize there was an option not on the tick list



Can I write like this

wItH aLl mY lEtTeRs FuNkY , is that not still writing ?

what?

What is that you say? What am I talking about? Am I rambling again?

Right

Back to my main point



I really like tea and I really like smiling and I really like laughing until I cry do you?

Here is a funny story:



The 3rd most watched video on a very highly esteemed newspapers website was a  low quality video of a monkey swimming in a pool , this ranked higher than a man being force fed through the nose – this is the kind of thing us humans are apparently really good at

No, not swmming silly,

Torture,

But that’s not the funny part , the funny thing is that one time my friend Paul went bowling and he saw a woman wearing a shell suit, she had a monkey polishing her bowling ***** and when she hit a strike he would clap, he also wore a matching shell suit , safe to say , it was an odd sight



Well maybe you just had to be there



But I like that , I like the ridiculousness we have created

Bowling allies and chicken and chip shops , buses , gallaries , houses , shoes , ice cream , microscopes , bath mats ,  fake ***** for children to **** their fake formula while we steal all the milk from a very much alive conscious mammal who proberbly wanted to give that milk to her baby



Ya’know stuff like that



I like it because it reminds me of what we can create , and the true power each one of us holds, because somebody came up with the idea to make high heels that **** up your back and someone came up with idea of cars that are nice to take drives in with music , someone came up with a portable music player , someone came up with the idea for a train! And then someone else built it !!!!!



I mean , come on! But the best thing I like to marvel at is nature, because no one really came up with nature , nature just kinda happened

That’s the best mystery of them all  an open ended mystery is like a really good open ended question

you who swayed on stoop-steps and picked bits of teeth
from your knuckles, your fantasies, your crouched in blood
giggles; monologues.
you who wrapped knives around tree hides and in carvings
found your way back to days of love
& dead wet leaves.
you who rattled in hate of sweaty girls but
smeared out on the boulevard for girls anyways
& made those girls sweat.
you who ****** in the snow and wrote out all the names
of your far-fallen friends and sisters in just one stream.
pacific coast highway.
you who soaked back in the trans-fat pools of employment
to grip at tips and taste at *****
in this fine phase we call fermentation.
you who came hurdling down from hills and hallways
with navajo sidekicks,
your battle-axes sweetened with sugar powder flecks; for flavor
while dying.
you who peeled skin from your fingertips in protest
of the war on whales, warping you irrevocably
down the path
of a whisky avocado diet.

Coming undone from the strings in my throat
that say a little too much or a little too little
They don't know their Femalien place,
in this masculine **** race-
So with raw heat boiling from the pit of my genitals
and dew drops glistening on my *******,
is it possible that we females are maybe playing the maleful jest?
At best, could a man see that he takes not
what he owns not
and what he owns not-
Is Everything.
But oh,
no no no no-
no no no no no no no,
you're a big man
with your big purply veined ****
coming out of your ears
and vomiting your man juice from your mouth,
don't you feel like a big man now?
As I slip between your skinny pleats
your manly desire,
your teeny weeny *****,
and swim about the valleys of your frothy tongue-
I'll get the flooding of your wallet
the more I scream "oh yeah baby,
I want you to *** *** ***!"
Yet as so far as real love can be concerned
real love does not exist here and in return
it is rain rain rain.
Heavy ******* rain on the blank canvas of your face.
I'll paint a pretty picture with your blood,
you could stick your detached eyeballs
in the mud
and we'd be happy, if only you lost those ears-
pesky things, I'd rip and tear,
tasty treats, your biggest fear,
to be a deaf and blind man
with a women in your wake-
or in your way-
or leading you-
You are not sure.
But ****
it terrifies you-

To the core.

girls, boys, friends, and words
morning river stones and stoners
water/smoke/gold bits
home known lips
years beautifully dreaming
maybe god
maybe house, and teeth, and stars, and *****
family thinking,
father, children, trees and feet/fort
of blankets
earthy far places/closer in pictures
legs been dancing
lovers been drunk beneath their best thoughts
gone
to air-like warm place, autumn
hand, or
deep fingered fruit and flame
alive to die
to die, is life
truely lived in color and crayola
kids making breathy art of movement, sport
to tongue and run
thinking of leaves, the spirit dog breathes blue
dreaming of big cool animals
he once saw
the meat of wilderness/tenderness
woman, she works the red dust
memories of street ancient holy naked heights
fun nights/fights/***** given
party lost body making ****** form waves, pool
full on tall-tales and books to seed
an empire
a televised endless story of flesh and
remember
a life, survived
passed on to a throng of youth
free spirits/springtime adventures
bottled pink sheets and the american lawn
bone-war in a distant existence
closer seen in pictures
fictions, stories told
retold, father’s factory soaked skull
his spit sweetened up in the mountains
goats we were, ready/ not ready
escaping slaughter
speaking of forests and ritual vengeance
popcorn blunted ghouls envisioned by pungent neighborhood momentum
weekend, high

I often find it puzzling when my 28-year-old sister displays her total lack of adult feeling. In her adult years she never has shown an ability to feel what my parents were feeling as they took care of her 100% financially.
    She was mentally ill from a very young age, a spectacle for the neighborhood kids to see as she took the smallest things to heart and didn't care much for friends to play with. Once old enough to have a job, she had no interest in having a job. And not in the usual immature teen kind of way, but a more deeply-rooted, adult fear of work and adult responsibility type of way.
    Now 28, still living at home and jobless she attends the local community college where she is afraid to check her grades because having no job or responsibilities does not allot her the ability to firmly grasp all A's. I was not always so highly critical of her. To the contrary, my whole family was made to think she was some mysterious *** of gold we all had to treat as if there was nothing peculiar and all her outlandish antics were okay.
   Indeed, I'd have no problem with her if she could only hold a ******* job, or do like I am and get on FAFSA and find a loving, kind-hearted man to support her while she goes to school. A man for whom she'll clean up after, do his ***** laundry and fulfill all domestic obligations in-part or entirely until she graduates an honors student and finds a career she can be proud of. But no, instead she found an abusive boyfriend who was himself mentally Ill, as arguably anyone would have to be to want to get with her, and after a fight she broke her cello and now my parents are paying for it. My dad, who has been for several years saving up for something nice for himself, who is now committed to paying for my wedding, who has been ignoring my emails inquiring about money to start buying little reception things, willingly or unwillingly. My mother, who barely makes anything as a public school teacher. Who both help support my uncle who is also living there now.
   *******, the hardship of my mental life has been to be angry at these people, the sweetest of the sweet for continually allowing her to suckle their metaphorical ***** for 10 years too long. The enabling has put me into a mental twist and I have become obsessed with it because I was down in it for so long. I guess all families have that one person, but few too my personal knowledge have one like this. Sometimes, I wish one of her suicide attempts had been successful, but then my parents would be enthralled in pain and anguish for something that may have been different, but probably never will. It is just like how it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all. If she'd never been born, maybe they'd been happier. Or maybe she'd have been born a different person. But now they have her, and they can't go back.
   She'll probably wind up homeless once my parents are gone. We've both agreed we can't take her on...
   This all might make me seem like the bad guy, but you wouldn't know unless you spent a day in the life.

Harris Teeter was our concrete niche.
We called it Harry *****, and I would visit you there
your last summer at home.

You were a bag boy;
sometimes you corralled green carts,
pushing them in rows in the rain.

On our first date
you tied a leaky balloon to my wrist
to follow my route above the aisles.

And while your greasy, bespectacled boss
listened to customers' complaints about
rotten pears, lost receipts, expired coupons,

you found my bobbing balloon
and snuck me into the carpeted break room–
coffee-stained, fluorescent-lit dinginess.

All I could think about was my wagon
full of groceries, abandoned in the store.
But then you whispered, dimpled,

that this was what made work worthwhile,
and I thought of nothing but your honey lips
and arms that fit me like a worn sweater.

In the minutes it took my blue balloon
to drain its helium and graze the ground,
wrinkled and stretch-marked and fetal-curled,

we strolled the aisles and ate free dragon cookies,
arguing creamy vs. crunchy, fresh vs. frozen.
Our fingers pointed to the makings of our favorite meals.

You re-donned your cherry apron
and piled my cart with bags irrelevant,
while your boss remained as naive as I.

Gotta love,
how all dem taxes
get taken out ya funds
given to those
with no income,
those who choose to feed
off our *****
like the young

I woke up still dreaming,
A silly little seeming.
I dropped a cup upon your door,
And your mom to my wonder, beckoned me forth.

She asked questions I must confess,
My mind remembers not but my heart craves, even at rest.
She smiled down knowingly,
and in that, Moment, greedily,
My mind played tricks to give me reason
To find you again, to beckon forth
As if I was ever a prince. And you anything but, a nevermore.

Oh, such, poison, sickly sweet,
In those hazel eyes, and bountiful *****,
In your perfect hair and perfect smile,
That in my dreams a stranger convinces me, it's worth a while.

Oh, broken heart, still beating,
That even yet still needing,
Something from days best forgot,
From traumas that still burn hot.
Go away, I say. Find a new devil to ache.
Nay, nay. Nay.

Ah am I more scared to remember, or more afraid to forget?
And I may never find a lover, not one that's here,
I only look in the distance now.
She's the only one who can get near.
Just me and my regret.
Still just you. My Amanda Dear.

Hard times have come among us. Are we all prepared. Have you taken the time to teach your children so they can teach their own how to live off of the land one day.  That day is closer than we all want to admit. Survival without starvation of your loved ones is inevitable if  they haven't been taught how their ancestors survived back in the day.  If posed the question where honey comes from, would they even know what to say?  Honey has to be robbed from the hole in that tree swarmed with millions of honey bees, milk that we drink or mix with recipes for our bread made from scratch every day , comes from the cows ***** milked by your own hands, the eggs must be gathered early in the morning from the hen houses where they are laid. The wheat fields must be picked along with the soy and every vegetable we eat, sugar that sweetens our tea came from that sugar cane . All of the luxury's of  seafood must be caught with a net from the sea , the fish that we eat from many different bodies of water , just remember to watch for the bear in that spring catching the jumping trout. You see for the way we are hunting our meat other animals already know how.  I hope that your wealth is abundant to survive in these coming days but most will fall short of the prices in the grocery stores to feed their families . Teach your children to teach their own all these things they need to know because the day is coming more near than we think that the only way to survive will be hunting prey and eating food that with our own hands we've  grown. Teach them the difference between their wants and needs as they will have to know the difference. Stop giving them everything they ask and start making them earn what they get. Teach your son's how to provide for their family, how to hunt and fish and farm, teach your daughters how to prepare homemade meal's that don't consist of a box, how to cook it over the heat of a camp stove that they have to cut the wood to keep it hot.

Bones
Wilt
Wake

Moans
Shalt
Scrape

Heavens empire!!!

Laughs wilt be squeels
Wheels shalt  turn dust
Babies wilt get no thirst
The ***** will loose their ****

Mothers shalt betray husbandman
Fathers to turn to housemaiden
Keepers will secretly watch

As secrets do liveth here!!!

Gangsters
Shalt turn to God
Good boys will turn devlish
Both becoming one as mobs

Notorious grubs!!

Excitement
They'll get by anarchy imprisonment
Delightment
Shalt be their worldly knowledge and kinships

Undertakers!!!

Open
Turned shy
Dead
Arrise
Blue
To black skies

As zombie robot moribunds they'll be
Whilst at their own funerals!!!

even i was surprised, Ed Sheeran wrote the song love yourself for Justin Bieber? seriously, when i was working security at one of his gigs at Wembley he mentioned it... Eddie?! you wrote this song? sorry... but Justin does a better "cover"... it's the sax you know... and the sing-along tad-tad-alla(h)... tad-alla(h)... that's the first surprise... the second surprise caught me off guard... completely... there's this custom in England where... once upon a time... passengers of a bus would exit the bus thanking the driver... old people of England still do it... i'm much younger... old people don't travel on the last buses or the night buses... i don't thank drivers of buses during the daytime... but come travelling on the last buses and the night buses... dude! you're working the graveyard shift... before i step off onto the bus-stop i bellow out a THANK YOU... i usually head no reply... why? most bus drivers get abused by pointless passengers... people who take things for granted... but today? as i was getting off at the North St. bus stop from the no. 86 bus... i hollered... THANK YOU... echo... no echo? what?! did i just hear that? the bus driver hollered back: YOU'RE WELCOME! what the **** just happened?! i interacted with a human being? seriously?! i'd love to do that more often...

the day ended with my ******* in an alley
thinking about sweet-little-nothings:
perhaps it was a thought about wild...
        woodland strawberries... i must have been thinking
about a something that's literally a nothing...
maybe i was clarifying the adoration of *******
of a man when he ****** in a darkened alley...

the day began with: the iron is ******! father changed
the fuse but that didn't help!
my mother was visited by a friend of hers'
who... would still prefer eat a moulding cake
filled with plums: the edges... than eat nothing...
over a coffee and conversation...
she's rather have that...
i was "neurotic": complaining: but how can i go
to work not having ironed my shirt?!
sure! but this is the last shirt from Mark & Spencer's
that looks acceptable when un-ironed!
sure... the creases don't look that bad...
but come on! order a new iron:
            i have ironed trousers and i have polished
shoes... but an un-ironed shirt? unbecoming...

women are hardly pre-packaged goods...

well.. i left the house leaving droplets of something
akin to the lyrics of Three Kingfisher's...
personally? i prefer the cover by Monster Magnet
than the original of Donovan's...
phone addiction... i told my mother's friend:
you know who has the biggest problem?
Muslims and copper-necks...
they are addicted to these things...
i don't know WHY or HOW...
but these younglings are always on their phones...
take any white boy or any... and there's no problem...
no... it's the truth...
these people are following suit toward
the crumbling of: or the reinterpretation of Christianity
via the Nag Hammadi library...

i left for work early... i needed to buy new sunglasses...
at the Romford H & M they were out of stock...
bull... ****...
what?! summer's over all of a sudden?!
the sun is dimming?!
mind you... it's true... that constellation once
enlarged upon the sky is... currently... very ******* away:
that massive wheelbarrow...
the earth has tilted... it's in a microscopic "agenda"
(misnomer, i have no other word,
"agenda" doesn't break up the flow
of the narrative)...

at work everyone seemed happy... there was
a feeling of a "conspiracy of friendship"...
i like... "conspiracies of friendship"...
the shift went along just like smoothing a nugget
of butter on a warm toast...
by the time i came come pretending to be tired
my male Maine **** was well qualified
in keeping watch in complete darkness my usual
crow-spot of a windowsill... perched like i'm usually...
with one leg folded: sitting on it...
the moment i walked in and put on the light
he jumped off his Cerberus' quest and hovered
with agile limbs of missing limps into my bed...
hello... lover...

i showcased him today... my "supervisor" was
asking for direction... father's birthday...
Triumph over Harley Davidson?
each and every day... Triumph conquers the pomp
and circumstance of any Harley!
my mother and grandmother refrained me from
picking up a motorcycle! thank you ladies!
i picked up a bicycle... i told her:
i like generating my own momentum...
they said: i don't want a "donor" in the family...
but i agreed in a "somewhat, somewhat":
i like generating my own momentum...
you're in complete control...

two totems of foxes figuring out an outer suburbia
while i was smoking a Dunhill cigarette...
i'm still listening too pretty songs...
i'll relax when i'lll start listening to all the ugly
masculine songs...

the shift passed great... i tried to slip for a quick
cigarette after half time finished...
i was caught on CCTV with the message that ran
along the wording: hey! we see you!
half-time finished... PLEASE - ******* back to your
intended placing - PLEASE: obviously not literally
thus worded...

two more shifts...
a brothel is unlike a night club... there's no difference
between a Thursday's night or a Friday's night...
i needed to relax...
obviously i finished my shift... i needed an excuse...
i will not be paying a fair's worth from zone through to zone 6,
i'll pay the fair from zone 3 to 4... then i'll get a bus
through to zone 6... but i'll need to stop off
at the brothel... drink my per usual aphrodisiac
of a certain cider... and some whiskey...
**** a girl and... DREAM A BIG NOTHING...
SOMNIUM NIHIL-MAGNUS!
i.e.: nothing: big... dream up...

i circled the brothel like i usually do... some *******
sewer rat blocked my first entry...
i later heard him hardly ******* and more talking
in the adjacent room... i heard no moans...
some prostitutes are there to speak... some are
there fore "oar-men": for *******...
i use shadows for company...

hmm...

this is how i finally figured out the dynamic of
a brothel... second time getting *****-******...
hmm...

i'm the soul of Tyrion Lannister in a body
of a Jamie.... Lannister... i hate the game of thrones:
but no, ******* DWARF is going to eclipse reality...
i figured out the brothel after...
after i wasted so much money on...
on... what was wasted in an hour that could be done
in 30 minutes...
30 minutes? that means? i'll **** all the ******
in the brothel! i won't have a favourite!
**** me! i'll **** all of them!
one by one i'll **** them all!

pretty music is missing as i'm writing this...
the forest at night, foxes, the graveyard at night...
moon! moooon! ah-woooooo!
i will not bark...
my god... of the three...
i had before me...
the originals: Melete, Aoede, and Mneme:
the original Boeotian muses
and Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe,
Melpomene, Polyhymnia,
Terpsichore, Thalia, and Urania...
no no... St. Francis' muses...
i want to **** them...

                 like today... i was doing my glory marches
rubbing my crotch to get an imitation *******...
drinking my whiskey by a shallow glug...
filling my bowels with enough aphrodisiac cider...
i entered the "abode" having "the" before me... how did i chose?
carelessly...
the one with the least language skills...
she knew how to un-sheath my **** but when i told her
to get some oil to ***-**** me she asked for extra money...
i didn't ask for a blow-job without a ******...
my skin is dry after washing myself... your skin is dry...

she eventually caught on... *******... what a lovely pair of
****...
peaches and pears...
hmm! that's funny! that's really funny!
what's that metaphor Moses inquired with?
you ever feel like...
Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss-erpent...
you ever feel like? ever? you ever feel like
being the gardener of Eden?!
how, you might ask?
hmm...  ever touch a woman's breast as it's hanging
over your torso... teasing the head of your ****...
ever touch a woman's breast... and reimagine
it being a dangling apple, on a tree?
when you touch it? i felt a sense of reconciliation
today...
i was plucking an apple from an apple tree
by touching up a woman's breast dangling over me while
she was giving me the pleasures of *******!
you know what it feels like? this metaphor?
of reimagining a woman's breast as an apple?
while it's dangling over your torso...
while she's performing ******* onto you...
she's digging her bruised **** and stubble of its worth
against your leg...

my god! the Eden project...
first the *******... then the cow-girl...
she got bored of that... she told me to change position...
she talked too much... i changed position... obviously...
but i told her in "sign-language":
you talk too much... talking during *******
is a massive turn-off... yap yap yap...
i burned my eyes into her eyes...
she couldn't take it... she wanted me to *******...
i couldn't... she told me to stop...
i stop... LIMP ******* ****...
hey! yoiu told me to stop!
no i didn't!
yes you did!
i pointed at her!
she was about to slander me for getting a limp ****!
well... yeah! you talk during *** you get a limpy!
i don't bring "god" into this practice!
only onomatopoeias! who, the, ****, in, their,
right, state, of, mind... talks, during, ***?!
during *** there are only vowels and consonants...
summon god upon this sacred altar of continuum?!
you have to be kidding me...
eyes speak: eyes eat eyes!
woman: have you learned nothing?!
you clearly have learned nothing of what i said!
i touch your breast i pluck an apple from the apple
tree that's your body!
look at you, for all this time you have kept your secrets:
interested men, internalised them...
conquered them! now?! what have you done you
silly cow! you have turned them off!
you silly little *****!
i have to sink to the lowest depths of your, self,
to find my sort of sexually-charged-medicinal-relief!
i need more! i'm a glutton at heart...
i need more ****** partners... i need to **** all
these prostitutes in this brothel!
i need them to fall in love with me...

that's why she stopped me!
******* at first... then her on top... then she asked
me to change position with me arching over her
missionary... what?! there's a problem?
what?! i'm supposed to ******* so easily?!
you ******* Moxart and the magic ****?!
i'm playing the flute! flute! the flute flew!
over seven mountains and the seven seas!

she started projection some ******* onto me
when she asked asked for my name: MATH-EW...
Matthew...
she retored with: MAFIA?!
what? no... MAF-YEW...
MAFIA... well **** me... she liked the fetish of
me being part of a MAFIA... yeah,...
i'm one of Milton's imaginations...

she stopped the *******... i had a stern face
upon a mask i wasn't willing to take off...
she implored me to ******* into her...
mid-pumping i gave up on her imploring
me to do so...
           some women... just... simply...
talk too much during ***...

****'s sake... just thinking about her gives me
the drunken hiccups... i hate drunken hiccups...

i love ******* ******...
i touch one of their ******* i'm plucking an apple
from an the forbidden tree of Eden...
oh! hello sunshine! Moses!
you think i never wandered these parts
with no one except my shadow for company?!
i don't pay ****** for a COMPANY OF LIES...

mendacium coetus

the lying company? easily reversed...
she ignored me...
i was supposed to be finished by growing limp
in the *******...
like **** i was...
i figured out the brothel long before she was
first squealing her first surprise...
of a fake ******...

you what?!
i love working with people that do not understand
or appreciate my shadow-side,
everyone, is, so, neuro-, -typical...
such, boring, creatures...
i need *** like i need air...
the more of it i get: the more tame i become...
why? few "things" interest me...
and the ones that interest me are **** related:
but not children rearing related:
i discover my true self on the basis of
the Libra: do i love to **** more than i like to drink?!
maybe the macabre me says: i like both... equally...

how did we end up?
i had a semi-limp **** in hand... she was all like: ah...
i ******* told her! your skin is dry! i want a *****-****!
what?! extra oil?! i just told you... spear-head me with
extra oil! rub your glorious **** in the oil
let me phallus tease your *******!

after i couldn't finish with her in her ****
she finally decided to do me off happy with a hand-job
and some well oiled *****-*******...
obvious i was relieved...
at least she knew the reasons for having ******* and pulling it
back...i have to admit...
between a ******* and doing **** *******:
i'm not gay... **** is ******* lost on me...
*****-******* is the best...
esp. when lubricated...

   it's the sort of imitation of being an infant
once more... the re-ascending taste of a woman's ******...
do men have these thoughts? i.e. i was an infant once...
i'm an infant again: but as a grown man
and not an infant... i love suckling on those *****...
she said i ****** too hard... i softened my suckling...

women as such sexually doubly-standard(ed)
creatures... they are mothers
but at the same time they are ******...
i love it! more! more! more!
when once they feed the babe... prior to there's
all that *** *******!
for "irritation's sake" of arousal!

i could never do **** *** with a woman...
these women have crossed a threshold for me...
i like ******* too much...
i mean... **** me... the way ******* sometimes feels like?
it feels like... sitting on a very comfortable leather
arm-chair... esp. if you're oozing out a ****
and farting at the same time!

me? i'm going to **** the rest of these prostitutes
in the brothel...
i'm on a rampage... i don't care..
and the people at work will just grimace and say:
i want to work with Matthew...
and they will... because i can be one person during
the day... and another person during the night...

apporto cadavera in mensa
bring corpses to the table!

i'll **** them all! dead or living!
i'll morph the ****-erotica of the serpent
of the phallus...
with the apple-***... as i would:
massage it through from summer through to
autumn... like a babe... suckle at its *******
and imitation-****..., right in between
the "crease"... of... clean... dried skin...
juice of flush of FLESH...

i love hand-jobs oiled up... with her **** imitating
****...
but there's also that bus-driver...
i love bus-drivers... i wanted to be a bus-driver once...
to become a Leibniz... a man of high intellect
but of subversive ambition...
i always abhorred ladder-climbing: socially...
symbolically....
preferred rock climbing...
simultaneously: what Leibniz conjured up with
Newton... the infinitesimal calculus?
of the two? Leibniz lived a better life of the two...
paddles... tattles... squids and frogs...
Newton had his Volatire and apple...
me? i have my... *******'s breast and pluck!
what's the supposed serpent you say?
my apple is pretty ripe... it's full *****... i just plucked it!

this apple, is mine...
pomum hic est mea!
i plucked this apple from the tree:
and fed it back to the woman unwilling to feed it back
to the thirsty man!
i don't care much for the woman feeding
or the thirsty man!
the night is "thirsty" for the light.