Game Of Thrones,
Game Of Thrones,
Game Of Thrones,
The hero for me was Tyrion Lannister,
He always tried to do what was right,
The small man with the great noble heart,
He knew the dragon queen was insane like her father,
So who sits on The Iron Throne?
Tyrion Lannister,
Tyrion Lannister,
Tyrion Lannister.

You're going to make a life
Even if it kills you
The irony, a silver bullet,
Is hollow tipped and true
I've become a conscience,
The Hand of the Queen, a guide
The whisper of a realist
With nothing more to hide
We've found the perfect balance
Between a balanced mind and something new
We've lost ourselves in time
And now all we need is truth

Just because I stumble doesn't mean I'll fall
Just because you have touched the skies
It doesn't make you tall

sq.
i.e. squadron
not sq.
i.e. square.

i was never going to go quietly into the "gentle night": if i were i go into the night i would awake the gods and lay claim to the mountains and the seas! i would pass the night with earthquakes and storms the earth has never seen! all because a ****** akin to a fictional character was spawned that undermined: less of a self and more of of a hierarchy of Darwinism... the proper order of "things"..."

well, it was a perfect day, a Matthew met a Matthew at the
bus-stop... i don't know why people confide in me...
our first meeting he was slagging a friend off...
he was into Taekwondo or was it Jujitsu...
he's having a hearing on the 21st of October for assaulting
someone, for insulting his Missus...
oh **** me: the honour of women?!
if women can't defend their own honours and airs...
what's there for me to do: mindless retorts coupled
with more mindless violence?
if that's what it takes to keep a woman? **** that...
but we talked... so, what's prison like?
i know a little background... i work with an ex-prison guard...
i know that the nonces are isolated and kept like
dodos in the prison system...
so it's not like Shawkshank Redemption...
more like Porridge? yeah... more like Porridge...
i too love women, but let me tell you, Matthew,
one Matthew said to another:
my grandmother was a *****...
he was dying for about a month...
when did she call me? a day before he died...
he was already in a hospice suffering from AGONIA...
i swear to my heart's content that
the telephone is no ******* cul de sac...
i was looking at the girl sitting next to us...
once Matthew no. 1 got off Matthew no. 2 was taking note:
she started sniffing and almost slobbering...
about to cry... TOUGH!

the shift at Wembley was a breeze...
quirky little me:
i'll support the Lionesses but i will not support the Three Lions
on a shirt... i'll support the women's international football:
thank **** those ***** best those Yankee ***** 2:1...
if those ******* are under performing i don't know
what i will do! they better be the best in the world!
and? currently?! they are!
good! they should be!

but i can't support the male team... i have my favourite
male team already... Argentina or Germany...
why? it's sport.... there's no clarifying why...
i finished the shift at 11pm... i would have been
come at circa 1am but i had to detour...
eh... brothel traffic... i was readied up... resorted to some
proper *******... i like a good **** like
i need to breathe... i need "vs." there's a good **** in place...

obviously i had to wait...
i was waiting for this plumb bursting cherry of a number...
she just came back from Romania and i just itched to
slap her ***... but she wasn't available...
thief! thief! awake!
who was available? i don't know her name:
well, i do, but i have forgotten it...
i remember her face alright...
and her most benevolent healthy pair of ****...
i could forget the existence of pears
and apples with them in my hands...

i showered prior to ******* after giving her the money...
i think women greatly appreciate the hygiene of
a man... i need to wash myself... i simply... have to!
after the shift i just look at these fuckless men...
some a tier above me in the workforces' hierarchy
who wallow in LEGO constructions and here i am...
******* off to the brothel...
well... if you have specific hobbies you either end up
wanting women or not wanting them:
bibliophilic "nuances" make you want women more
and more...
last time i heard i've only performed about
two ****** positions... and neither party is bored...
her on top or me arching over her in a missionary clutch...
arching...

i need *** as much as food...
not as much as air....
but no ******* DWARF is going to usurp / hide my hungers
in a fictive tale of games... now my game...
i bought 500ml of dry 8.2% cider... drank it
walking around with the moon on a "leash"...
rubbing my **** in the night...
just checking... healthy... blood's pumping...
sipped about 20cl from a 70cl of a bottle of Brandy...
kept rubbing: still healthy...
i really want this chubby cherry cherub of a ****
that's been away for almost a month...

bad luck... i had to have this one i first met while
having a ******* who performed the most pristine
hand-job... second time? i still don't know her name...
i don't remember having ******* with her...
just oral ***... oh... now i remember...
she implored me to not kiss her...
like **** that's going to happen this time round...
obviously i had to steal a kiss from her lips!
and i did!
i stole a kiss, i stole her lips...
does it matter is she ****** off a "dwarf" prior to me?
nope!

the skin of men is like the leather of animals drafted
into curating chairs and, etc.,
the more use the said material encounters...
the better it is...
            a **** always tastes and is worked better if it was
been worked by the many rather than the few...
for the first time i felt that i had a proper Kama Sutra
phallus... i was matched to a ****!
i was too big for once!

i was only halfway in when she started contorting her face
with a pain-agony...
it was rather beautiful to watch...
because i love that taste of uncertainty
when it comes to how a woman is pleasured and how she
is displeasured and what the **** is up with *******:
i don't want to know...

that's when she started admiring my hair chest
and hairy stomach... rubbing through the hairs...
that's when i started my war against Tyrion Lannister...
then she moved to fiddling with my beard...
and she called me... oh **** me: fiction dies right here and now:
she called me a Leu... yep... a Lion...

why then asked for my name: Matthew...
she didn't believe me... i growled my second name: Conrad...
settled!
we smoked and drank some more of the brandy...
i managed to "steal" a scarf from the match...
what a quick to steal: kleptomaniac...
sure... you can have the scarf... just give me one more
cigarette!

nothing can compare to the tender-firmness of a decent
pair of *******...
but kept asking: kept asking: what are you looking at?!
what are you looking at?!          YOU!
can't i... why are you looking at my so intensely?!
why?! WHY?! because i want my mouth
to turn into an eye and i want my eye sockets to
become two mouths with which to eat you with!

i'm tired of abstracting! to truly love women
you need about 3 or 4 passions,
if it's drinking: it must be drinking with a measure for
the appetite for woman: greater than the appetite
for drinking... if it's an appetite for books...
the appetite must be less than the appetite for reading
a woman's face during *******...
she must ask you:
why are you looking at me so intensively?!

sure, i too could have my Jamie Lannister moment
with a first cousin, a Justine, revealed...
my aunt, not much than 5 years removed from me....
me and my great-grandmother...
she and her grandmother....
running barefoot in the rain...
sorry are the stories we tow...

now i'll smoke a marijuana joint and
sleep the deepest of depths of nothings the world
will ever "learn" to fathom.

Polly

Polly she was a psych major,
But minds she couldn't read. Page
her instead
with words in your stead.
And her beauty you'll get engage(r).


Courtney

Courtney and whiskey and game of thrones,
Tyrion's wisdom satsifies jones,
The dragon so epic,
But White Walker get it,
While visually feasting on bones.


Georgia

Georgia a mess,
White hair from the stress
Her beauty sublime
Pausing time no contest.


Rachel

Rachel abate chu,
you know that I couldn't
For weirdness is awesomeness; serene.
Now who wouldn't appreciate
deviate from our normality
Plus gin is for winning
a truth known unanimously.


Wilhelmine

Wilhelmine sublime in her majesty,
At the helm for intersectionality
Butler'd be proud
Preferred pronouns abound,
(And **** what kind of band are you rad in b?)


Selene

Selene full of sugar,
What music dya cover?
(I mean if it ain't free form jazz,
It can't lack razzmatazz)


Nassem

Nassem with beret and flowers,
Entrancing, enchanting for hours,
The men did all swoon
For no finer a tune,
Their blakcouts a sign of her powers.


Tanya

Tanya does shine,
and **** ya so fine,
Entwine our being
in blissful combine?


Denise

Denise pretty sweet ****** her thumb
the saliva like juices of plum
She'd still **** it now
If she'd stuck with the how
Instead all her coolness undone.


Kate

Kate so great,
And gin drink elate,
Dya wonder bowt cool stuff?
Or leave it to fate...


Felicia

Felicia appresh ur adventure (I do)
A coolness some people should start to accrue
It feels your speal will carry enjoyment
What spoils you foiled like Gandalf's endorsement?


Rachel

Rachel is boring?
A fact left adorning,
Conversations a **** up
For ****** who are stuck,
I'm sure you're a truth worth adoring


Ilydia

Ilydia sublime in all of her glory
But without a bio, she's lacking a story


Caoimhe

Caoimhe relieve ya with tales of Kirk
But Picard is the ****** she'd rather you ****,
A sailor mouthed hoodlum
beguiling with *****
that'd harbour a vegan inert ;) ;)


Annabel

Annabel, man her well
into her *******?
Sneaking round farmer's fields
down for some... snogging...


Kathrin

Kathrin, laughin with wind in her face,
Riding her gas powerer car every place,
Her lectures a feature of questions renowned,
Or else you can find her with face fraught (not sound!)


Gabby

Gabby her sense of humour is dark,
A chicken who's picking the losers apart,
Some rabbits who slumber by her majesty,
With floppy ears, carrots, and cuddles of glee....

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.