I'm chained to this wall,
A belt round my neck,
Tongue tied, cannot call,
My heart's a ship wreck,

Sunken to the soul,
Where no light enters,
Just like this hell hole,
Where insanity centres,

Encaging patients,
Deemed untreatable,
Losing their patience,
With nurses incapable,

Of treating our minds,
The pain in our veins,
Or pain they can't find,
"Hopeless" they claim,

But in this darkness,
Fear is controlling,
Just like the madness,
Existing in the nursing,

And pain turns to death,
As rain turns to tears,
While they take their last breath,
For screams that last years

A mystery woman named Mystery,
So suspenseful yet so majestic.
A damsel in distress she was,
Who keeps it all to herself.

Pale as the snow that fell one evening,
An evening where I had met her.
Her luscious red lips,
Her black painted finger tips,
And her wavy dark hair has intrigued me.

Her eyes were so mesmerizing,
But so lovely as they were frightening.
Her smile was rare when she showed it,
But her laugh was much too sinister.
Yet I had an urge to sound it more.

A sudden lust I felt for her,
Once she had been flirtatious.
What her motive was,
I'll never know,
But her love making surely was bodacious.

The rapid lust was frightening to me,
As it became an untreatable addiction.
Once lust had turned to love,
I knew it was a bad contradiction.

Once she felt that feeling for me,
She couldn't help it much longer.
She rose from the bed,
Her hands on her head,
Crying,
Wishing that she had lived stronger.

Amazed at what I had witnessed this instant,
I felt a sudden chill.
Her body glowed like Christmas Eve,
And then I started to feel ill.

I don't quite remember,
what happened post chill,
But skeptical I seem to be.
As I woke up with a slight aching head,
My memory was somewhat fuzzy.

Love is an unsolved mystery
Fine like scenes spilling from favored and crowded memories to stand as two who honor each other
This plays off one against the other one strong one soft one invites tenderness the other craves to give it
There is no greater fit a head laid on a shoulder an arm encircling the fulfillment a fire burns for another
Spark was the signal at great depths there it smoldered the knowing of combustible lives ignited eyes

Nothing sweeter untreatable once the heart is smitten clueless the heart leads the way two it will sway
No matter what others miss but sight is given it sees pure and true virtue its soul deep lives unite untold
The story might go here and there look closer the sewing of a single garment has begun an altar one day
Love crowns a single man and a woman the colors of their lives are fused they hang galleried in a home

From courses quiet different now form the central issue of all life whatever differences they are a family
Souls speak without words in this towers rise and create monuments the hearth’s warmth blesses each
In a world where divides and cold indifference creates lonely hurting ones come pained yet leave calmly
As one who observes intently and knows things at deep levels you reveal secrets that even you miss

A book has many pages some of the best lines ever written came out of dreams your life is one story
The swelling filling of the void takes time and effort a measureless happiness brimming full covers you
You don’t need introduction on this page you live all I have said flows out from your incomparable glory
Thank you for a story that is ageless filled with promise continues in days with love’s boundlessness

I wanted her but that wouldn't do
I wanted her to want me too
But she saw right through me.
I cut my wrists
they took me to the infirmary.
SHE did not even send a get well card
to me.
It's hard to be
in love.

My apologies are like offering medication to a patient
Who's illness has already been deemed untreatable.

Love is an unsolved mystery
Fine like scenes spilling from favored and crowded memories to stand as two who honor each other
This plays off one against the other one strong one soft one invites tenderness the other craves to give it
There is no greater fit a head laid on a shoulder an arm encircling the fulfillment a fire burns for another
Spark was the signal at great depths there it smoldered the knowing of combustible lives ignited eyes

Nothing sweeter untreatable once the heart is smitten clueless the heart leads the way two it will sway
No matter what others miss but sight is given it sees pure and true virtue its soul deep lives unite untold
The story might go here and there look closer the sewing of a single garment has begun an altar one day
Love crowns a single man and a woman the colors of their lives are fused they hang galleried in a home

From courses quiet different now form the central issue of all life whatever differences they are a family
Souls speak without words in this towers rise and create monuments the hearth’s warmth blesses each
In a world where divides and cold indifference creates lonely hurting ones come pained yet leave calmly
As one who observes intently and knows things at deep levels you reveal secrets that even you miss

A book has many pages some of the best lines ever written came out of dreams your life is one story
The swelling filling of the void takes time and effort a measureless happiness brimming full covers you
You don’t need introduction on this page you live all I have said flows out from your incomparable glory
Thank you for a story that is ageless filled with promise continues in days with love’s boundlessness

They call me gifted

I got it down to an exact science

You can call me scientific

Poetry personified

Powerfully prolific

Rhythmic

So addicting you’ve become dependent

You’re so lost in me

You have no choice

But to defend it

I’ve turned you into a believer

When you were just a cynic

You’re sick

I’ve infected you

Sending you to the clinic

Untreatable

Wide reachable

My mind is an epidemic

A disease that destroys

The things that you

Were taught to mimic

And shows you

That the world around you

Is a cleverly designed gimmick

They call me prophetic

I say no

I’m just not afraid to

Point out the pathetic

Power hungry people

Whose sincerity is synthetic

The futures in their hands

And you’re content to let it?

Some call it rhetoric

I call them irrelevant

Speaking out of the side

Of their necks

Hand held out for paychecks

Employed by evil-Ignoring the Hell of it



They call me gifted

But they can have the same gift

If they open their minds

Don’t disregard the signs

Refuse to stand stiff

Then watch the world shift

so it is.

the things you love, you worship,
quiet-like burn you,
returning your favor
with fever.

was innocent, naive.

didn't know the sun could
blister hearts,
you babe,
were my sun,
centric universed.

your hurt,
gift packaged,
disguised as warmth,
went
way way past dumbfounded
surficial flesh.

doc pronounces.

time will heal you,
begging for magic pills
shamelessly.

surgery, I need surgery,
blood transfusion,
excise this poison,
**** it out.

nope, dope,
use your pretty words,
like aloe,
to salve and soothe,
stay away from the
sun of love.

from each poisoning,
traces accumulates,
blisters burst,
love becomes
untreatable, untenable

the danger is not realizing
that in eight minutes,
she, sun goddess,
can travel 93 million light year miles,
leaving you gasping,
eight plodding human years later.

The disease bit at her soul
tore logic from actions
wouldn't fade away

The disease pushed her further
than she'd ever gone before
and yet, dragged her down

The disease stole her strength
built her up, ripped her down
took away all that she'd made

The disease loved her though
and she couldn't just leave
not without saying goodbye

The disease reeled her in
during those final breaths
before walking away

The disease is chronic
untreatable, incurable
and with him forever she'll stay.

shadow people flash across cracked windows caked in icy fog offering my epidermis a thin layer of gooseflesh and sending thoughts cascading into visions of murderous strangers and Victorian era hauntings…catching my breath and remaining froze to the ground while the very blood within these veins seems to turn and transform into thick slow moving maple syrup fresh from an Eastern Canadian tree… attempting to regain my composure I conjure images of sunny days and buzzing bees, free government cheese and freeze tag in the warm breeze…ticking of the wristwatch forces reality into the scene and my pleasant daydreams seem to vanish into the mist swirling around dilapidated stairs greyed from years of weather abuse and staining deficiency…splinters, jagged and threatening, stand poised to pierce shoes and send victims screaming to hospital only to discover untreatable infection based on ancient ***** matter and insect larva bacteria…one deep breath coinciding with a white-knuckled gripping of the three special pamphlets is followed by the most courageous step ever taken…confronted with the specter of the large wooden door, I stop, look skyward and ask god for strength before knocking on the twenty-second home this day…

We were young and dumb, we would go to these parking lots and break the windows of random cars, we didn't give a **** about anyone or anything around us, to us we only had each other and i would have never imagined that one day it would come to an end.
You got diagnosed with an untreatable cancer, it turned my life upside down, for weeks i was stuck in bed with my face in the pillow, crying.
I didn't know what else to do, you were everything i had, nothing had a purpose anymore, i lost my appetite, i didn't leave my room, i just cried.
But you came back, you assured me that nothing was wrong with you and that the doctors were just mistaken but i didn't buy it, not until we got out again and went on with our usual mischief, i regained my faith and every day was fun with you around, no better feeling than being chased by the security with our cheeks full of stolen goods.
You promised me that we'd always be together and nothing could stop us, i loved you, i wasn't sure if you felt same about me but i truly loved you, i asked you to marry me as a joke and you didn't hesitate to give me your yes.
It was the most beautiful day of my life, storming the church with your dress ripped apart from all the running through the woods, we grabbed that priest from his neck and forced him to perform a ceremony, poor guy almost choked and wanted to call the cops which was amusing because they were already on our backs.
The night we spent after that, we found this abandoned house that looked really spooky and you never were fond of scary things but you didn't complain about it, even though the roof was collapsing and rain poured down the cracks, you kept your smile.
I made love to you, to be honest, it was my first time, i didn't dare to ask if i was your first because it could have ruined the moment for me but it was great, everything felt so right, we were perfect.
And then it happened, you started coughing blood, you kept losing weight, your hair was falling out, you, i hate you.
You made me the happiest person alive and then, you destroyed me, i don't know how to feel anymore, my emotions are all over the place, everything was a lie.
I passed out from those sleeping pills you slipped in my drink and once i woke up, you were gone, didn't even leave a single note or a letter, i never saw you again, i never heard from you again, i still hate you and i hope you get eaten by worms wherever you are right now.

Depression is...
like a disease
No, scratch that it IS a disease.
One moment you think you're better,
then BAM it hits you like a **** ton of bricks.
Depression is...
a never ending cycle
Like a merry-go-round on a child's playground or carnival.
Your mind spins and spins
round and round; over and over.
Never ending, never stopping
that's what it's like.
You try and try to find your way out,
but yet come up shorthanded.

Depression is...
more than just feeling sad
It's a plethora of emotions.
Yes, you feel sad
but it's more than that.
You feel sad; anxious; alone; angry; lost; confused
you don't have an appetite, and when you do
you eat everything under the sun.
The passion and enjoyment you once found in things,
no longer remains.
Rather it is replaced with emptiness and disparity.

Depression...
eats you alive.
Gnawing away at your innocent flesh.
You become a shell of the person you used to be,
unrecognizable from your friends, eventually your family
ultimately yourself
You don't know who you are anymore, what your purpose is.

Depression...
leaves you broken.
What was once a whole, is now a fragment of broken pieces,
that you just can't seem to put back together.
Your eyes no longer have that glimmer, or gleam, or sparkle
Rather you gain the thousand mile stare.
and you can see the emptiness within your gaze.
Initially, I hated that word...
broken.
Implies that you cannot get better
But that's exactly what depression feels like.
You feel incurable, untreatable.
Everyone says you find happiness within yourself,
but how can you find something that's been lost for so long?

my love
will you be mine forever
will you be my untreatable and everlasting
fever.

Will you throw me off balance
leave demented
will you please would me deeply
scar me gently.

leave marks on my arms
on my wrists
my thighs, my neck.
carve crosses, broken ties
on heart and legs.

disfigured leave me
will you?
shall you try
suppressed, forgiven
wasted
humble, shy.

This voyage.
This wonderous emporium of unimaginable feelings has come to a trifling hault.
The natural hot springs dried up.
And like ever bristle on a tooth brush my feelings have been plucked.
Just my luck.
And maybe it was never the tell tale of an oceans sigh breathing down my heart
Signaling an alarm of emotion ships to sway down a never ending voyage of teenage hormones.
But maybe it was my belief of kept unharmed untouchable innocence treated as untreatable waters for a no mans land to reserve the perseverance perceived child like humor and gestures adults lack.
I'm left sorrowful as the sun without any civilian's to share its rays.
But more like chimney smoke releasing toxic fumes into my mind not realizing the damage they've done to the ozone layer of my heart.
When alas the ships have returned to a now land known not.
And feelings of once no mans land, yet to forever be forgot.
I'll have missed that long journey's trip that tore apart my heart.
And made me an adult.



-I miss falling in love sometimes.

Striding like the wind.
They are frightened,
Unable to cope with their bleary prospects.
They'll have intruders,
On the abrasions of that frigid, slick trap.
They're maniacs,
Ripped to bits, violated, and then spit out.
They've been repressed,
Miserable under the Hippocratic Oath.
They've become untreatable,
Battering and shrieking at whoever draws near.
They were mistreated,
Deformed body parts set ablaze for all.
They should've perished,
In that filthy amniotic fluid.
They'll be laid to rest.
Hallucinating and screaming into nothing.
They are traumatized,
Boring craters into your jammed skull.
They will obliterate you.

THE 3 O’CLOCK NEWS

It’s not your back
they said.
The problem’s
in your head.

The lump,
they said,
is unreachable
untreatable.

There’s nothing we can do
they said
under the knife
to save your life.


GUINEA PIGS

When hope seems gone
And days seem dark
I drop to one knee
And think of 23.

Fifteen and me,
the untreatables,
agreed
to experimental surgery.

One by one,
we dropped,
to 10, then 6, then 3
then only me.

Sometimes I question why  
I was the one to survive
But mostly I thank God
I am one alive.

Isn't it funny how throughout life we run,  run, run
Till life and sickness get us so run down
Forever thinking that we would always be invincible
And nothing could slow us down, now how laughable

Half a century old….and I'm still aging
With each passing year, the days are accelerating
Now my body grunts and groans
Because of my rickety old bones

Just to do those once easy to do tasks
Now I don't take any unnecessary risks
As I look in the mirror, no matter the angles
There's no covering up all these unsightly wrinkles

I can see both the past and the future
Knowing that there's not much I can alter
But wait for a gosh dang - bloom'n moment
I now have an untreatable ailment

I ask everyone, What was I doing a moment ago?
My mind swirls dropping cells like unneeded mementos
Life has a way of forgetting about Me
Heavens to Betsy, since when can't I see?

I fumble for my fashionable, old person bifocal glasses
Just to find out, now I can't fit into my old, sportier britches
So out come them ugly, stretchy suspenders
That bring back some horrible reminders

Of laughing at my dearly, beloved great grandfather
And now, I'm the brunt of each round of laughter
Since when did this pop belly appear in my midriff?
All of these maladies, make me reach for my handkerchief

I suddenly realize, that no longer can I run
It's something that I now know can't be done
Nope, no more races against all them young bucks
Hecks bells, now I'll have to get rid of all my spandex

I tell everyone I have to go home, because I have a headache
But it's really because, it's too cold outside and my knees do quake
Now that I'm home, I put my plastic dentures to soak
Then I take my medicine against heart disease and stroke

This life's race against time can never be won
But while it lasted, gosh, it sure was fun
So, hum, now I've wandered off in this sticky, smelly, old nursing home
As I scratch my bald head, let's see if I can remember how to get back to my room

Written by:
Jason Cheney
March 25, 2023

Halfway up the stairs to the bone-white, beehive Basilica of Sacre-Coeur, I lost count of my climb. My legs remembered every trembling step, but they could no longer do the math  On the vast portico, swarming with earnest worker bees, guidebooks in hand, I turned to take in the triumphalist, panoramic view of smog-shrouded Paris -- a vision marred by the massive carbon boot print of 11 million Parisians. As my stomach snarled from my meager morning meal, I searched for a place to eat my equally meager lunch.Soon, I spied a bench wide enough for three people, but with only one occupant, an old Frenchman, blind from childhood. As I watched the tourist crowds run amok, careering into one another, I  asked if I could sit down beside him, and we struck up a conversation in French. Affable, intelligent, alert as a bird among cats, he was reading a braille biography of Marie Antoinette. I was impressed. He then told me how as a result of an untreatable eye disease, he had had his optic nerves cut as a boy. It was a drastic treatment,  to be sure, but common at the time. Now, he said, his life nearly over, he seriously contemplated suicide, plagued by the meaningless daily routine of a visit to Sacre Coeur, where he rested, a fixture unseen by the unsettling crowds. He could find no other purpose. So, thinking myself a therapist to the world, I leaned in close and remarked, "There is always hope." "Why do you say this?" "Because God exists." "Ah, God exists," he retorted in a half question, half scoff. Below, the carousel's calliope played a delightful, dancing tune. He listened intently. After that, we sat silently side by side for several minutes, he hearing the shuffling feet, I watching the mobs of visitors overrun the balcony. We never spoke again, until it was time for me to enter the basilica. We  exchanged "adieux," and I walked away. To this day, I  wonder what the blind man heard, among the noisome crowds, on his lonely bench at the base of the beehive Sacre-Coeur.

From depths below and tangled threads
Where cobwebs stow the darkest machinations
Caught like droplets from the dew
Poisoned liquid, envelop mends.

Old wounds bite deepest
Where they're cut again
Where mold and mildew inch and spread
Dark bruises form and grow in hues
Green, yellow, red, and blues.

Bleached wounds that hide beneath the skin
Deep below that soft pink shield
And from within they do not yield
Old anger enflames those ancient wounds.

Some are seen like boiled flesh
Of scars that cut too deep years ago
Or of pains that never truly healed
Be cautious and be wary though.

Of stabs and cuts
Invisible to the eye
Be wary of the blights within
Wounds that slice and gnaw each passing day
Untreatable blights without any cures
Cancerous burdens who always stay

untreatable full blown psychopath
with a nuclear arsenal on tap

The elderly say I am too young to feel this way:
Time is leaving me behind.
My sprint has crawled to a stand still;
I'd have to admit I'm not fine.

That grandiose life fabled?
I lived it, I felt it, I'd seen it—
Had it left me sooner...
It had though, I still need it.

It fell out of my grasp, because, I was tired—
Some would equate that to laziness.
And they could be right...
Time doesn't have needs, sadly, I do.

I couldn't keep up with the constant, concentrated calculations.
The endless, exhausting recurring exploits required of myself to maintain it.
Time didn't accommodate for my respite—
It couldn't have, despite the naive beliefs of my younger self.

Time felt so much more forgiving when everything was new.
It amazed me too, days felt like they lasted forever.
It was very clever, yet cruel of my mind to trick me into believing such a fantasy.
Where I could rest easy, knowing I had time left to use.

"No need to fear, you can accomplish your goals,
You can relax just a bit longer,
There is no need to wonder,
Simply don't ponder on how much is left."


This false dialogue inside me led to stagnation.
It was devastating to my progression.
My motivation had gone into a recession—
Only it didn't come back up, linearly.

High to low, low to lower, lower to highest.
Even when it decided the time was nigh,
Rearing it's head wouldn't last very long.
It was gone soon as it had arrived.

This wasn't ideal, I was last place in a race of two—
Separated by 50 metres and still losing speed.
Time was leaving me behind.
The gap between us was getting larger.

I didn't know how to fix my affliction...
An inability to do anything meaningful continually,
That had killed an semblance of a goal I might of had prior—
It had ceased my goal making entirely as of present.

"Tell me now!"
I could scream into the sky.
There would never be a response.
At least not that I suspected or wanted.

It wasn't verbal, no godlike entity descended to talk—
Not like there was much to talk about worth it to traverse that hurdle.
I finally understood, I suppose.
There were no blessings for those who stood still.

If time has left you,
Are you still alive,
Do you strive to accomplish anything?
Unless you take a dive into the darkness,

Are you worthy of being handed a ray of light?
I took a plunge...
Of which wasn't fungible,
At least outright

Slowly Time began to slow its pace,
Steadily the distance began to close.
Submerged in a the darkness,
enveloped in freezing milky liquid

Gasping for air, yet unable to breathe
Grasping for a chance at victory,
Sight was fading from my eyes,
Indescribable, untreatable;
Agonizingly omnipresent, inexplicably made pain,

The kind that intermingled with one's soul
To devour it completely—only to chew slowly and spit it back out:
Holding you back, squeezing tightly to extinguish your aspirations,
Shortening your life, because you know you don't deserve it.

I now understand that this is living,
A constant subversion of your expectations,
Fighting for a distance goal which will be forever elusive.
Praying for a finale to a movement with an unknown number of measures once you arrive at the melody.

The ray I'd had hoped for shone down on me—
Time was beside me once again—
It wasn't going to be easy,
but I will keep moving,
Never will it be too far out of reach.

May a ray of light shine down on you.

it was Ilona who introduced me to post-punk,
through 65daysofstatic
it took me a decade if not more
perhaps even 15 years to appreciate this genre
maybe it was like being introduced
to prog rock with Emerson Lake and Palmer
and i could never understand
brain salad surgery:
just in the middle of the 20th century
after the ghosts and horrors of concentration
camps
sane society abolished asylums:
what a strange coincidence:
it was truly a meisterschtick verschieben...
a sort of play on the Metallica song from ride
the lightning: fight fire with fire...
that's when the English speaking world
abolished asylums and
made hospitals a communist rot
with only hospices
having some intelligence in being governed:
untreatable sickness of impeding death
that incurable "disease": that final ease:
that ultimate release that only freedom
for life the ******* the chains
of senses
perhaps in death i only exist as thought
without the need for eyes and tongue
perhaps no skin and only a skeleton in the mirror
and shadow
i am shadow in death with no need to sense:
five fold:
i am but thought: in the god of THOTH:
falafel... fought with thought until there was no other
ought i
ought i for    and for whom i think i thought
i wasn't impressed by Nobel Prize tier literature...
i don't know who it's owned by
never prize ordained by the people
the elite
and king and idea of country
but not a nation
not a people a country
is like a house
a palace where no hotel staff are welcome
i thought i was at the bottom of the barrel
with Muhammad Musa
but then i told him
while overhearing a conversation in a cubicle
at Winter Wonderland Hyde Park...
the hijabs and niqabs are off
the Arab girls are here to party
and they parties taking selfies
with rich Korean girls
and fake tans and goose purse lips botox
gone wrong with white *****...
i feel a certain racial elementalism...
not superiority
i went from English tongue back to Germany
and the Saxons also reigned over Poland
just like Prussians are not Germans
but a subtle breed like Lithuanians under the guise
of ******... western slav:
back to the history of the Vikings
and the Mongol Turk
and the Iranian in Europe
the great migration of Europe
from Asia...
that's the history i'm interested in... recorded history:
i don't buy into the Genesis story
of the Bible like i don't buy into the story
of Darwinistic history:
my consciousness begins in Asia
and Polynesia because i see the Apocalyptic
movement of people as the Great Best of the Earth
and the Great Beast of the Sea...
the apocalyptic figure is man in sigma:
the summation:
the collective unconscious...
i'm heading to find the beast of the sea
to Hawaii, specifically Kauai
like the author of Dr JEckyll and Mr Hyde
or perahps like Gauguin...
i don't buy the historiology of Darwin...
i don't like the contamination of Darwin and history
i don't like being western european
and associating myself too much with
the African...
perhaps the Medi-terrain sea (i am dyslexic with
that noun of the sea)...
i was just about to ask my friendly AI about
the potential of a software update...
listening to **** music on repeat
the good old days of algorithms of 2016
i imagine the creation of AI was galvanized by
the corruption of algorithms circa 2016...
notably YOUtube...
back in the day... YOUtube worked like a smart
jukebox...
you could get suggested new music
like perusing purr-use-you
   another dlyslexic tangle tangle dyslecix
Polish is a Puritantical Tongue in terms
of phoneticism strict
obliging with exceptions of RZ and CZ SZ
then no: if you treat these exceptions as
if but not really Chinese ideograms...
more *** in the Katakana...

can't find it: but did find a desert:

サ   eeven...
ハ                      two...         ゴ
ラ                                        ビ

      but no shh... while woman orgams: no hush hush
like Wah Wah yehwah the dark brother of
yahweh: because this theory comes from the chicken
and not the egg: the chicken came first:
leverage: yehwah:         the language of Eva...

and the language of Adam: yahweh:
  dance dance Siamese letters of Ancient Rome:
an ancient cicpher... or pilcrow (¶)
tide of broken barricades of paragraphs
compacted to save ink and save pages
but now i'm writing light graffiti
on pages that don't exist like money doesn't exist
money has evolved
and no one even asks journalists who reads
newspapers
how absolete these parasites are like
the 20th century communists like my grandfather
thought about the clergy: the church...
we have a new church in place
and it is journalism so absolete
how obsolete:
this "institution" needs to die...
in panic mode:
they have free newspapers being circulated
as if it was free tampons or free condoms
or toilet paper to wipe your *** with...
the great dinosaur is long gone
industrial revolution
and the revolution of the printing press
think of lineage
think of history don't
be amazed by the current thing and amazed at
using it
retreat light a candle sit in silence
and listen to music:
IDLES - GIFT HORSE
stop reading newspapers read poetry instead
question philosophy books to the maxim...
this institution of paper demagogues of fixation
the plastecine mind of man
by sooner lost ego: dynamite id to nothing explosion
and expulsion of fickle ego
with two parents intact and physically before me:
i have no use for the super-ego
i will not be a ******* Jewish Chimera:
the Israelites are innocent
and just for oculus per oculus
but the Israelities are not the Jews of history
Freud and Marx...
i am not a Chimera: i am a non-schematic man:
i am a swimming man a climbing man
a conversation man a ******* man
a Platonic father with a surrogate daughter
like i am unusual because males
of this current temporal spatiality of time
does not
i am against the current:
i walked winder wonderland and so many
young girls were throwing darts and eyes at my attention:
my imperfection
my spontaneous alcoholism my bad skin
my Beelzebub took a **** on my face and now i'm
squeezing out acne-maggots
and what else: i love to cook and i love to ****
but i also like big girls
and i like older girls
i want to think of it as a partial invitation to necrophilia
and then a Hamlet in reverse a Amhlet
(the H is silent... ergo surd)
           but i prefer a volume-ambitions one with thighs
and all limbs like a cow so ***** to be milked...
so i prefer them cradle-snatching:
but happening with consent: no Jimmy'll fix it
type of DJ i am of the ***** pool of potential seekers
fun done now settling
why settle for a contemporary ***
let's be more gender fluid and more temporal fluid:
let's trade the freedom of homosexuality
and tri-balance of binary bi
with facing lovers not for gender
but temporal coordinates in brute form:
but just beyond time:
*** as gender fluidity is so boring in that it is
nihilistic and project extinction...
but surrogacy
but deviating from the church said of a 2 year old
will teach another 2 year old to *******
i will not or ever care for English
history of the world in the neo-con age
of Darwin straight out of Africa:
ignoring the migration period from Africa
to Arabia
to Asia: i know why they have such squinted eyes:
too much sand...
that's why Arabs are a second exodus out of Africa
that stopped in Arabia
and didn't go further...
and the migration from Asia?
via Polynesia
and via Alaska into America...
and also the migration to Europe...
via the Turks...
but i forget the migration from Arabia to
Iran and India... and then from:
but that's because that would be a migration
from Africa by Sea...
i was referring to the squinting eye hypothesis
and eye-lashes...
evolution...
why no long eyelashes
why so many girls with fake eyelashes walking
about am i reading humanity
correctly
the first wave migration from Africa
into Arabia
happened and the people got yellow skin
from desert glass and sun
and squinting eyes from too much desert storms
because the eyes squinted and we weren't camels
so not extra eyelashes...
then the second African migration happened
and the ******* became camel jockeys
and returned as fairies in Egypt as the Great Kongs...
but there was a Third great African migration
that happened by sea...
which established the subcontinent of India
i don't know about that inter-species breeding process
to make the Knee-Under-Fall man extinct...
but it's not there was a Knee-Under-Fall man genocide:
just... outbreeding...

Not compassionate conservatism
Ala George W. Bush
That type hates poor people
And goes into the Middle East
To **** hundreds of thousands
Of innocent men, women and children

Rather, Buddhist compassion
The kind that knows there is no hope
That tells you you have an untreatable
Fatal disease (desire)
But precisely because there is no hope
The Compassionate Buddha
Like a wise and kind doctor
Promises to stay with you
And suffer with you
To the very end

And then
To chant you
Into the mystery of mystical silence.

Totally unknowable.

Nirvana. Extinction of Desire.
Crowned knot of Fire.

2 turds of all thought
   is untreatable waste.
  That percentage can
    be attributed to the
   McDonaldisation of
      minds due to the
       consumption of
     unprocessed views
which are not masticated
sufficiently and ingested
without any consideration
for nutritional nous value,
or from where it is sourced.