She laid there next to me, facing away as I tried to touch her bare back. She flinched away with a sort of surprised anger. I looked at her large tattoo of a red and black fish that swam up and down her spine, using her skin as a shallow pool. Jade was always an impulsive person which explains the expensive moving tattoo that I did not approve of at first but has since grown on me.
Jade was given the gift of change before birth. Her mother wanted her to be safe so she asked the doctor to add the Shifting gene to her DNA. Jade hasn't changed on me yet, though. I can tell by her thoughts that the form she was showing me was the one she was born with. I don’t know why she would change.
I was given the “gift” of reading minds. It seemed important to my parents that I wasn't affected by the thoughts and words of others. The down side is that everything is always so loud until a person is going in the ground. The brain always talks. But Jade has such a calm mind, even now when she’s mad at me for whatever we fight about, she is sometimes totally silent. She is unpredictable too. Her thoughts don’t go along with her actions all the time which makes it hard for me to listen to everything she thinks. I feel sorry about that.
I dreamt that a cat was drinking milk from a silver saucer in the middle of the street in the middle of a thunderstorm. The tabby did not move and when it noticed me looking at it, the cat walked pass me and disappeared. Thunder snarled like a gray lion as lightning stabbed the ground with a purple flash. The boom and the flash were so loud and bright that they woke me. I jolted from my bed and looked back upon it. Jade had gone.
I called her name twice but there was no response. I ran from room to room looking for her. “Hello Mr. Wald.” and then “Goodbye Mr. Wald.” as I peaked in and out of the doorways. My thoughts were so loud and scattered that it sounded like all of New York was screaming in my head. How could she leave me like this? We have money, shelter, food, running water, and even if she doesn’t know yet, a child on the way. She wants to name it Ariana but I know it will be a boy. I have to find her. We have so much right.
My arm clock read 7AM. and flashed a bright lime green through my skin. The sun wasn’t up yet and wouldn’t be for another hour but no hour is too early or too late for Jade. I grabbed my heat regulation jacket and shoes and slammed my door behind me as I stumbled to my car to search for her.
I knew her well enough to know she didn’t leave a note. She would know that I would be able to find her within minutes then. I wish I would have listened to her more. I shouldn’t treat her thoughts like white noise on an old television. If absence makes the heart grow stronger, why do I feel so weak and empty? Jade, if this distance somehow repairs our non-existent wounds, I won’t be mad. I just want you back.
My search went on for weeks until I missed her too much and went to a small coffee shop we used to go to. I sat alone in a booth with my mug and my frown until the waitress asked me if I would like another cup. Her thoughts sounded unclear and quiet. I figured it was just me missing Jade but as I handed the woman her tip, I noticed something red and black flicker across her thumb.

i'm just bored of seeing MMXV everytime i switch
on the television, with the end credits...
i actually get indigestion...
i live in a country famed by
pedophiles rather than Liberace...
politzen-mann! politzen-mann!
homosexuality was one step forward,
and subsequently two steps back...
where are the women?
    where are the women?!
where are the women to sort this
problem out with what the Thai boys
sell: me sucky-sucky tug dollar, un' *****'s
       hour.
where's the rebellion?
               the b.b.c. became bankrupt
once the Savile affair dawned...
             even Ed Gein had more mourners
at his grave... to be honest
Ed had a grave to be desecrated...
   Jimbo? they finally decided to bury
him under a pebble... and them phoom!
mt. everest.
    but as sure as hell he made the b.b.c.
bankrupt... i'm surprised that
strictly come dancing isn't credited with
the same year as most of the b.b.c.
programmes are these days... em em ex viva forever
                as Churchill holding up the v away from
the mouth, not insinuating gulping down an oyster.
  πютр (pyootr) - who else if not peter fuchs?
alles neu - all new, central Berlin...
   achtung achtung! die zentrale figürchen tanzen!
i'll write sluttish german,
     panzer und gargantuan truce...
          i'll write it...
                     truce: in german that's chemically
worded, hydrocarbonated: waffenstillstand...
   armistice, or army standing still.
                     Gertrude Goebbels...
   don't know, just felt like saying it.
                           Brüch and snatching schnitzels...
marvelous nouns... Hindenburg...
     Bismarck -                          pretzel -
                                   schwarz wald -
now the geese... now the strutting Gucci invoked
geese... shadow defence minister?
    that monty python guy from the ministry of
      heigel siegel play-girl partly-a-girl. party-girl
with a fetish for those well-polished leather boots
that would have agreed to kicking
                              in the teeth of Lorca...
            at least we have common ground...
    or at least we had...
                        anyone remember watching
cbeebies coming back from primary school?
           anyone remember blue peter?
       there's no reason to claim that the whole
scene went underground / onto the internet...
                                      television these days is on
a life-support machine... consisting mainly of pensioners...
   and even they decided to tune-out
playing ultra-imaginative chess while watching
a brick wall...
                      20+ years in England
and i never had an english girlfriend...
                 Savile is no surprise to me...
                            what's more of a surprise is the fact
that once the b.b.c. started to become bankrupt
                        the n.h.s. followed suite -
i can't believe i live in a country that's famous
for siberian tea (adding milk to it) and pedohpilia...
and restrictive Soho...
                                  if i get sexually frustrated i'll just:
i am probably one of the few remains of
               buying ******* in a newsagent...
and the counter argument is?
         a citation from black swan -
but there really isn't an intellectual debate in this realm...
      and there should be one...
        but i guess the debate is harder to handle
when you've been circumcised...
                   i just think that once you've been circumcised
of course *** is more pleasurable...
              but once you've been circumcised you
are donning the opposite ***'s *******...
it's like: you have to be with a woman...
                   because having a **** while being
circumcised is the lowest ebb...
                   auto-suggestive of?
              i "circumcise" myself every time i ****...
i pull it back...                  but this religious indoctrination
    of only revealing positives?
                  turns out the kippah was a metaphor for
the lost "excess" skin... later replicated
by Christianity with the tonsure of monks -
     there's not a third way... Islam is not as close-knit
as these two religions... it's just a ******* annoying brat.

Stell dir vor es ist Krieg und keiner geht hin.
Stell dir vor, es ist Frieden und keiner nimmt daran teil.
Was wäre Krieg ohne Frieden?
Dasselbe wie Frieden ohne Krieg?
Ohne Warm gäbs auch kein Kalt,
ohne Wüste keinen Wald,
ohne Tod kein Leben,
ohne Wasser keine Erde,
ohne Faulheit kein Streben und
ohne ich war, kein ich werde.

Ich renne. Lautlos. Meine Füße berühren abwechselnd den Kies, ein paar Steinchen nehme ich kurz auf meinem Weg mit, danach bleiben sie einsam neben Anderen liegen.
In meinen Ohren ertönt der nicht endende Bass meiner Gedanken.  
   müde. müde. müde.
Es ist das Wissen um das Ankommen, das mich weiter antreibt. Ankommen, da wo der Wald den Himmel trifft. Ankommen, da wo der Regen unter mir immer noch fällt. Da, wo ich Ruhe finden werde.
Links und rechts wiegen sich die Bäume zu meinem Rhythmus im Wind. Alles pfeift mir zu. Das Rauschen des Flusses ist mein Applaus. Er gilt mir, und nur mir. Weil ich es bald geschafft habe.
Da wo das Brummen lauter wird, wird das Rauschen leiser. Die Menschheit ist wieder spürbar. Und ich laufe, laufe laut. Meine Arme strecken sich aus nach dem greifbaren Ziel.

Stillstand.

Einatmen, ausatmen, tief einatmen.
-
Meine Gedanken fallen vor mir. Und mit mir fällt das Leben.
Es kommt unten an und zerbirst in Millionen Scherben. Ich tue es ihm gleich.

Willkommen Unendlichkeit.

autobahn limbo:
lima bravo 5 5 5...
Harvard ha 6...

i woke up in a benevolent mood...
i rarely give money to paupers... only yesterday...
or the day before that: yesterday
i arrived at Romford at 12am from Putney
Bridge... sort of exhausted from dealing
with coworkers: i still don't understand
the tactic Emma is employing giving me
the ***** looks... then again flirting
with me... some... ******* underlying mental
health issues...
what is it with these women
my own age? i'm supposed to be the one
that's ****** up... but i look around...
**** me: what a bleak horizon...
almost as flat and boring as:
"adventure" in Belgium...
          ******* Swedish pop songs...
exported into the anglophone "hemisphere"...
maybe it was worthwhile that i was
a hermit throughout my 20s...
   coming back out, to meet people aged 35....
i'm of the "constipation": you what?!
o.k., o.k. i've had my fun in the brothels
but this is just getting silly...
#metoo...
                 you what?!
               i must have been living in an alternative
ulterior dimension...
   it's called the English articles procession...
i don't think i'm THE devil... just A devil...
one of many....
        so i i woke up in a benevolent mood...
two paupers... i cycled hangover feeling feverish
and like a **** thrown out onto a beach
to sun-bathe...
             you what?!
          yeah... felt like just that:
i don't need no hallucinogenic drugs...
when i get dementia... when i get dementia..
and there she was... a Roma-esque beauty...
i asked her... you want anything?
oh... just a Dr. Pepper... walked in... got my whiskey
and Pepsi... right... Dr. Pepper...
but it costs me £1.75... is she vegetarian?
why did i ask myself? well...
there's a meal deal... £3 for a drink... a "meal"
and a snack... for i bought a chicken bacon Caesar wrap...
Maltesers...
     as i walked out... in my mind: swerving...
ice-skating... asked her... are you vegetarian?
she said no... well then... here you go...
and all it cost me £3... for a god-bless-you...
good feeling... Charlie Dickens style good feeling...
honestly... if i had more... i'd freely give it up...
i just don't need it...
   i own enough... to be honest... i actually own
too much...
    but i can't be collective in the case of ownership...
selective...
what's that biblical quote:
ask... and it will be given?!
   no?
           minutes later i was buying a bottle
of cider and getting some cash-back...
another pauper... professional... faking it?
whatever... i wish i had children that i could
be defensive about... then again: no...
want anything? oh yeah... just some chocolate...
only yesterday the Royle family were munching on
some Crunchy chocolate bars...
so i bought him that... and told him while
giving it to him: the best choc-ah-bloc you'll
ever eat...
                     days like this... who needs to compete
with other men for status or women...
i feel like... skidding... feel like a diarrhoea...
but at the same time... hell... i just fed someone...
and she has one of those plump... Roma...
squish... smiles... you just want to bite them...
tease them a little... she reminds me of Priy'ah..
         that's how i love ***... it's the longing...
it's the forgetfulness that sometimes sprouts...
you remember all the tender parts of the body...
the soft parts surrounding the collar-bone...
   the funny parts of elbows and knees...
          the altar of a woman's thighs and...
       oh... oh... all that's in the inner crevices of her
works...
                      no... don't mention her hands...
i've tried... i can pick up a basketball with one hand...
obviously my phallus looks tiny in my own
hands:
funny... all those guys... taking ****-picks
just after having *******... oh no... they're not
taking them prior...
      women's hands are the most ******...
technically... to get some "whereabouts"
i'd have to... cut off my pinky...
i'd be left with 4 fingers...
            such cute little geisha blooms of bone...
i look: i want to eat... those hands up...
esp. if the woman in "question" isn't white...
   copper-neck... camel-jockey...
             ivory: Kenyan... plump buttered up
silver in the moonlight...
              right... i'm gearing up...
                     need to manifest an increase of stamina...
if my ******* "girlfriend" is texting me...
the time's right...
i've earned enough money in the past month...
time to revisit her...
         no more high 3 on the throne of thrones...
****... ****... *******: sure...
but no *******...
            better prep up... after all... if i'm going to
spend £120 for an hour's worth...

so she sends me a message asking whether i'm
alright: more like: have you forgotten about me?
of course i haven't...
but let's be honest: i don't *** to becoming boring...
something married people get bored of...
mind you: i don't want to have too much of it:
just in case i have to turn to role-play...
kinks... latex... glory-holes fetishes...
can we keep it kosher: the sort of ******* that
translates as: i really missed you?!
oh my god... she looks even better in daylight without
any make-up... what a gorgeous Turkish cougar
of a woman...

                         i'm pretty sure the women i work with
don't know anything about my brothel antics...
which is good... because... why would i want
them to know?
  
the German: Hessen... fans from Frankfurt didn't
disappoint... they came like all German people
come: like a horde...
  their fanaticism is more admirable than that
of the English football supporters...
i walked past them... they gave me the eye...
the sort of: giving me the eye of: oh look!
ein von uns...
                     one of us!
              
   funny that... in German 1 is also A...
a indefinite article... but also... an anzahl...
       number...

sure... obviously i was giving breaks to Muslims
breaking their fast... but with the Germans 'ere...
it felt like the good old times...
when Lyon fans visited... eh... zee Fwech...
it's not the same... but when the Germans come...
from the federation that isn't Saxony...
from the Hessen land... or elsewhere...
ever heard of the Anglo-Bavarians?! me neither...

i feel... at home... in Europe...
even today i was working with this guy... nervous as hell...
Finland? it really was a one word question...
no, no... close though... he replied...
Lithuania... i'll let him know some other shift we'll
do together...

czołem bracie!
            čołem bratku!
kaktos brolis!
          i.e. hey brother...
   kaktos: using the forehead to greet someone...

even in this poly-ethnic England that's
more London than England...
i felt... finally! pagaliau! schließlich!
at home in the right sort of cold...
i just needed the Germans to come to England
and behave like Icelanders...
hoo! hoo! clapping in unison...

why would i hate the Germans?!
           all the other ethnicities that are not associate
with Europe suddenly fizzled out of my
"concern"... Ramadam my ***...
                      i started talking to his... oh... this is a coy
one... ginger... beauty... has a flimsy blonde mustache...
freckles... light ginger hair...
i seriously don't mind...
she was really ******* reserved about me...
i could see it in her eyes...
finally i pulled her off... we started chatting...
her kids are studying Spanish...
they want to give it up... but i tell her: don't let them!
if they learn it, acquire it...
that's all the South American potential...
or tell them to learn German... after all:
English and German are cousins... the grammar is
pretty much the same... how you order words
in a sentence...

i just picked up... alles güt?!
ar du haben eine güt цeit?!

      i just wanted this woman know... a little bit of something
about myself... like...
i do have interests in foreign languages...
if she wanted to ******* with me to Poland...
i could speak for her... very "fluently":
well... natively...
         but what sort of woman would ever follow
Roxette day-dream?!
   i think i must have chewed that chewing gum
until my jaw felt sore...

remind me... why am i here? per se?!
if i'm not here for the fame... i must be here...
trying to make a conquest within the confiens of mythology...
i must be spelling it out... one person at a time...
to one person at a time...
  i'm not here for fame... i see it now...
fame associated with mortality... with the living..
no... no... i'm here for something more rarer...
i'm looking for acknowledgement after i am dead...
i want that: very much so...
i want to become famous... posthumously...

           it's a long project... es ist ein weit projekt...
fair enough: in English:
a pair... an antenna...
that N... which is shoved between vowels...
but... in Deutsche...
ein... eine...         that added vowel...
how does that work? i'm yet to speak
to someone who might erzählen (zu mich)...
i see a load of Germans... ooh! ooh!
fancy that!
         they're congregating...
no Zeppelins then?!
    
   wohl! nein Spaß wenn Deutsche
    do nicht kommen mit irgendein Zeppelins...

kommen! kommen!
lassen mich sehen du!  

but i can't really explain how it feels when seeing
these continental folk congregate:

   was inbrunst! was... lebengewalt!
i was truly standing there: pitch-side...
gobsmacked... ich war verblüfft...
         i sort of wanted to join them... i was itching
to go among them and chant their Frankfurters'
chants...
    well... because in England: diversity is our
strenght...
                    vielfalt ist unser stärke...

i was sort of reminded of the time when Europe
entertained those Nomads that spoke some
Hebrew... later mingled Hebrew with Deutsche
and out popped a ******* child that was Yiddish...

everyone comes here... this great continental funnel...
this bottle neck... they come... mingle...
and then they later leave...
   while those that remain and have always remained
are stuck by being struck with the sentence:
what the **** just happened?!

maybe that's my "problem": i see ethnicity before
i see race... like with this Lithuanian guy...
i seriously thought he was Finnish...
he sort of reminded me of looking like the lead
singer from the band HIM... Ville Valo

i did mention it to a coworker... oh look...
        der große schwarm!
maybe i should put more effort into this tongue...
no disrespect to the English language
but... German sounds softer...
English harsher...
   a bit like the inverse of: Russian sounds soft
while ****** sounds harsh...
it just sounds like... home...
          
       ein herц... ein wirbeln von luft...
              mund von der wald...

it's these conjunctions, the German definite articles...
hypothetically there's that for der
there's the for die
   there's that for das...
          i mean: there's der for that
there's die for the
   there's das for that...
    
                          you seriously cannot not be envious
when you see Germans en masse... spirited
with a commonality: for a bienenstockgeist
(hive-mind)...
                            i was struck with: neid... envy...
i wish i could belong like that...
within an in-group...
                       scheiße!  aber suchen bei mich!
i'm stuck with the ******* circus of the world...
alles zungen kam zu Loon'dune...

          seeing them like that... i find the hyped-stress
on individualism in the Anglo-Sphere slightly...
putting it mildly... debilitating...
all i wanted to do was go among the Hessen
and start chanting alles mit uns!
or alles von uns!

                i mean: how can i belong in a society that's
fixated on a global agenda... that eternal project
of monotheism... it's... seltsam... weird...
after the fiasco of the Turm von Babel... you'd think...
the opposite ought to be true...
the evil urges of the demiurge point in the other
direction...

                  but once more we've come together
as a "species" and once more we're trying to work
together... obviously the writings of Moses are
primarily metaphorischindikatoren:
you can't read them literally... anyone who reads
them literally has no poetic-sensibility...
no imagination... just like the flood did happen...
well... given the ice age and the melting of the ice...
sure... it did... mind you: we were drawing dragons
before we discovered dinosaur bones...
giant fire breathing lizards... fire being the representation
of what happened to these giant lizards...
supposedly a meteor struck the earth...
boom... imagine if that meteor struck the moon
and destroyed it... no tides... no water... blah blah...

i.e. i was never a big fan of Bill Hicks' humour...
or H'american humour in general,
unless it's by a black guy... i'm all into all that race
baiting... but me? something along the lines
of Eddie Izzard... Lee Evans...
                           maybe i'm just exhausting this sitting
that i've spread over two days...
     it has become such a collage and i'm starting to
smell a little like cologne... rye cologne...
or is that wheat? the main ingredient in whiskey?

well... that happens... at first reading
Human all too Human didn't present itself as spectacular...
but on second reading... wow!
probably his best work! it all makes sense now...
esp. since i'm reading it in English rather than ******...
too much of the teenage rebelliousness
goes into reaching for Nietzsche...
    i guess the best gateway to understanding him
is by reading some Heidegger...

ich bin einfach: begeistert mit Deutschedenken!
i am simply: enthralled with German thinking...
you couldn't: you wouldn't say as much
about about English thought...
          i just can't stomach it... it's too pragmatic...
it's too easily bound to problem solving...
it's hardly inquisitive...
it's a shepherd's mentality...
   keep everything organised... categorically proof...
phonetically, though? a ******* minefield...
loopholes of spaghetti everywhere...
   back "home" you never hear of the condition
that's dyslexia... you did hear of...
literate or illiterate... but there was no middle
ground... of dyslexia... i.e. / e.g. dyslexic:
good with numbers... **** with letters...
           katakana? or Chinese ideograms?!

(ich) sehen,
               hören,
                      wittern,
                           schmecken,
                                         fühlen...

aber! aber! da ist ein sechste! "sinn"...
   the totality of which translates itself into written
language... gedanke!
     or rather: denken! thinking!
strange... i can think about my liver...
but my liver doesn't think about me...
i can think about my brain... but my brain doesn't
think about me...

it's... deshalb a sense!
you think i'll learn Deutsche proper if i smuggle
in some German wörter:
from time zu zeit?! well... i'll have to remember:
bring in the Cyrillic TSA: ц -
  because i'm pretty sure i've just spotted an
exception on pronunciation...
it's not цoo... but it's most certainly цeit...
it's "actually" zoo... i'm itching to put an umlaut
on that U of ZU...

      i'm ageing... chances of me learning a third
language proper are impossible...
i can only dream about it...
         i'm already entrenched with the language
i was born with and the language i'm writing in...

but i simply can't stop admiring the Germans...
unlike the English... i too have had my share of grief
"borrowed" from these people...
but seeing them congregate like that...
easily swayed... you can't simply stop... mouth agape:
ehrfurcht!

                ich wunsch ich war ein unter du... alles von du!
i was clearly born in the wrong tribe...
i clearly was moved to the wrong tribe...

loch in der borden!
     wolken in der himmel!
                    bäume in der wald!

you could really arm these fellas up... and march them
into suicide missions and they'd be like:
fair enough...
          i guess that's what Leningrad must have
been like...
              
i can't exactly love my native tongue...
the noblemen of my camp sort of became lazy...
disrespectful to themselves...
and their people...
                              **** them: it's that easy...
i pledge no allegiance to either England or Poland...
i'm a three thinker...
as long as the Latin script is employed...
i tried the Greek i tried the Katakana and the Cyrillic...
i became cross-eyed...

well... not with the Greek...
    Cyrillic was always... paupers' Greek for me...
how Greeks destroyed the Glagoliic script...
it was so beautiful... almost... no... it was almost!
no... it wasn't Arabic... it was Glagolitic...
it was itself in how it was crafted...
nothing is going to come across as practical as
Latin: though: that's already known...
since Latin was the only language employed in
creating the internet... no?!

i do feel sorry for the natives though...
    for me... i'm "going elsewhere"... i'm always going elsewhere...
i'm not going back "home"...
Haiti?! Kenya with the ivory beauties...
Turkey... i'm definitely going to Turkey
to pick up Khedra that ol' raven haired witch...
the best **** in all of... whatever...
    i'm not staying in England: at least my mind
isn't... and my body is not returning to Poland...
i'm ******* off... i want to entertain a Turkish harem
of thirsty women...
   i want to "return" to the Mamluks of Egypt...
i want to be in the ranks of the Janissaries...
                          you know... in cultures where masculinity
is celebrated: not simply shunned...
in my mind i'm already there...
to hell with dating single mums...
raising someone else's children...
if i were a prospect for a Cesar... being a foster parent...
perhaps... otherwise? too expensive...
    
i'm clearly not doing this ****...
culture's all awry...
             it's such a cryng shane though....
       how un-available women have become...
                well... people have lived through worse...
and still managed to: tragen an!
                              
geringste von ihr kümmernis      

                            leben kurz: leben liebend!
das ist alles!
                        live short: live loving.

In the marshy wald von Teutoburg
Varus took his men
To quell a slight rebellion
Well, so it seemed to them.

—————

Three legions Varus took with him
Anno domini nine.
The woodland dense, so swampy
That they had to march in line.

—————

And with him rode Arminius
Chief of the Cherusci.
Equestrian, citizen with respect,
A knight of Rome was he.

—————

This Arminius whom Rome trusted,
He’d served her well for many years,
Went forth to lay an ambush
That left Caesar shedding tears.

—————

Hampered by the close terrain.
Drenched through and through by pouring rain.
The legionnaires, unknowing snared
By vengeful Gauls who, long prepared,

—————

Three legions with their eagles high.
Pushing through to make their way,
As rain pours down from lowering sky
And in the gloom those legions die.

die birke und die
kiefer wald
von kontinentalland....
erst hier.

birch wood,
pine wood...
   loss of the oaken
bred.

the cold, has come.

all concern for music
disembodies
time, with what is,
a concern for time...
für zeit...

music is not architecture,
architecture is
not the grammar
of geometry,

logic contra logic

an Irish womb,
an Arabic phallus:
***** contra
dodo *** Hong Kong...

i have depth toward
"concerning"
myself of the gravitas
of the life,
sentenced:
an expense,
a loan,
             a... mirage...
cult of David...

lose you, i lose i:
stiffening curtail,
i, mask,
you, my macabre
stealth similie
missing smile;

hybrid death,
allure of the stampede
of echoes...
a clutter of
       bound by
knocking on a tree...
unfathomable
to suit a room,
to make a tree
into a door,
and...

    ein wald
                   ein raum...

no... time embodies
the writ,
  of what time expects...
but music contradicts
within the confines
of the exfoliations
of what it is...

platz und...

why would a German
make it a concern...
for IS, TIME,

   tamed... being...

and the French...

    the thought
an ought,
and subsequently
a nought...

           4am...

                  too much...
it is too much to
cling to the self-evident
expression of a body
attached,
with a shadow,
to discontinue a remark
worthy of a unison,
a god,

                to marr,
subdue...
counter the scalpel
of the ultra-Hippocratic
expedience...

to: and fro... the verb:
act, and upon...

4am...

i die: a death
well versed in
having established
itself in,
having to,
curtail the morose
      cull of breath -
in the prior to
curtain's fall decree
of...
            
     leben:

aus von jeden ist
da ist noch
                          ist,

ex-is-tance...

   the dance of insistence...
out of ever instance:

music is the expression
of the deviant
nurture of time,
encompass...

and that implies...
   -is-

             musik ist platz...

deshalb zeit ist nichts;

und poeßie?

                         schule!

your fabric worth of a face,
contra mine,
and...
the persisting worth
of an evaporating etc.;
clinical,
in the worth of a revisionist's
worth of rubric,
in reiteration,

            minority
contort;
              weeding out
grandiose
export, H'america...
                   the...

                Salem circus loot:
"freundlichartikel".

what i've learnt about bands... say, they're headlining over
two days at one venue...
on the first day they play all their major hits...
it feels a lot like a struggle: i struggled to not yawn
even though i shouldn't have...
sure... they played all their best songs...
                  Scar Tissue, Under the Bridge...
among others... but the whole flow of the set-list felt
disjointed...
           the crowd felt too fresh...
                 and sure: on the first day the venue was sold out...
if i wasn't working i don't think i could appreciate
a back-to-back spectacle by the same band:
no... i wouldn't be stupid enough to buy tickets
for two consecutive days...
     isn't it enough that i ****** up my knees, feet and back
earned over £400... spent £35 on a t-shirt
and bought myself lunch: the best steak & potato
pasties in town?
no... i wouldn't have bought tickets for yesterday
and today... i would have thought like most people might
think: they're going to play the same songs...
nope... bands with a big enough oeuvre never play
the same songs... if they're playing two or three days
at the same venue...
   today's set list was much better...
because they only played Californication, Give it Up...
and By the Way...
    that's the only three songs they split between
the two days...
       sure... yesterday i was writing about being spotted
for what i do...
these two women started hovering around
where i was placed... i spotted them once...
disappeared... they reappeared...
one was my sort challenge... a big girl...
a big girl akin to ALISON TYLER big girl...
sort of the same height as me... all the necessary freckles
of a brunette and not a ginger...
lovely curves: big... not fat... just big...
she kept eyeing me up... i don't know whether
the crowd gave her the "*****-and-giggles" or whatever:
but her friend started to try and comfort her...
scratching her back... then caressing it...
her bra strap became exposed... then her friend tried
to hide it... and she kept looking at me with
these doe eyes...
     i couldn't allow them through the fire exit...
since only personnel can walk through freely...
so i told them: there's this disability bay up there
and the seats are far apart...
you might not see the band: but you'll hear them...
that's the best i can do...
       they left and i never saw them again...
maybe i'm just imagining things...
    who the hell buys tickets to a concert and suddenly
conjures up "panic attacks"?
i'm not saying: fakes panic attacks...
  but conjures them out of thin-air!
            maybe i have a story in my head that sort
of deviates from "reality"...
            hell... i'd buy tickets to a ******* opera instead...
that's usually a tame musical experience...
but still a musical experience...

just to the end i figured something about crowd
control, it's just a minor detail,
i sort of knew why things were done as they were
to be done: egress...
how to get over 30K spectators from the pitch...
two routes...
one route? a bottle-neck... up the stairs...
onto the concourse...
second route? a whale's ****** sized exit through
a tunnel...
what do you do? you block off the whale's ******
sized exit through a tunnel for about five minutes...
by placing traffic-cone people in high-viz. jackets
by this exit... today i felt like i was the only
controller on an airport tarmac...
moving my hands: indicating direction for
the initial crowd leaving to take...
           better orientating airplane...
   up the stairs... to the right... to the right (my right,
their left)... that's the whole trick...
establish a flow up the stairs... so that enough people
take the bait... which creates an initial split in the crowd...
since the bottleneck route can only take so
much traffic... and while people congest around
the high-viz. traffic cone people... right...
one flow established... now pull apart
the cordon of high-viz. traffic cone people
apart and let the mass of traffic through the tunnel...
makes sense...
                   i know there's no need to think about
such simple things...
but what news do you usually hear from Mecca
at the time of the Hajj?!
    what's the news? about 70 dead when the crowd
stampedes and crushes everyone...
i hate working with people with large eyes:
fear has large eyes...
    and panic is worse than ******...
               you just want people to go to an event
and leave safely... some drunk wizards and philosophers
will always be found... but that sort of stressing of
"individualism" is about as useful as
a gherkin on a pile of cucumbers...
                     i hate losing my temper with drunk people,
thank god it's a concert so you do have to shout
because of the ear-plugs...
and stand there like some hyper-inflation of "******"
gesticulating via "on MIGI": in MIG...
                  a make-shift deaf-person talk with the body...
it's not an acronym, it's a word borrowed from
******: in flashes... finger language...
hand arm body language...  
          wink wink... smile... neck turning insinuations...
i don't know if i'd make a better postman...
i think i'd make a great housekeeper when
people go on holidays and need a caretaker...
perhaps a great dog-walker...
certainly not a dentist or a heart-surgeon...
that path is lost... i'm not going to pick that sort of life
up... i'm still thinking about picking up
the role of a chemistry teacher: although i'd prefer
to be an English teacher...
  
   what a gruesome weekend... what a rewarding
weekend... i only woke up at home and
only spent 12am through to 2am scribbling and drinking...
as much as i love the idea of home:
give me a horse! and a good stretch of an Ukrainian steppe!
i've earned enough to 0 my debt and spend
the rest on prostitutes... which i will after the 1st of July...
because... i have nothing to spend it on...
plus... if the economy is going to work...
the women need the money... i just buy whiskey...
band t-shirts after seeing them in concert...
some food from time to time...
but... better the women have the money to spend...
but i'm not just going to give money to women
via marriage... via marriage that means
having a limited amount of ***
and hoping for people to attend your funeral... ah ha ha...
better i give the money to prostitutes
and have *** in return... makes sense...

i was actually dreaming about this manic weekend
finishing...
i was dreaming something akin to...
which i did fulfill...
the last day...
   singing die eisenfaust am lanzenshaft
(Teutonic Crusader song)
while walking home from Romford St. to where
i live, while drinking some cider,
smoking a cigarette or two...
admiring the night, the stars... the lateness of the sunset
of high June... wishing to find my cat sleeping
in my bed... waiting for tomorrow
in the form of waking up at 12pm,
cleaning the house... waited for the boiler technician
to come at 2pm and get paid £80 for 15 minutes'
worth of work...

then cycling for an hour... then making lunch
for dearest father with the leftover steak meat...
then making dinner power: roast chicken...
some vegetables... i'm always in my "element"
when cooking...
cleaning the house: that too...
        i have at least one night until a shift
at Wembley for an Ed the Ginger gig so i can
completely drink myself under the table:
the Matrix setting: there's no table...
as there's no "under": therefore...

                      i work hard i drink hard...
crowd control: eh... work for retards...
but these army references keep trickling down
from the top to the "stormtroopers"...
i don't know why the Somalis and other copper-neccks
like working with me...
once a make-shift supervisor...
i'm still their supervisor...
i think they just like saying the word: Matthew...

i was away from working for enough
to know... that work and youth don't mix...
und ihre schwerter blinken...
    
if i had more time: i rather walk into
the:
verdunkelt-wald... mondbeschienensilberlocken...
than a lampezündetehaus...
das knarren von kniefern
im alles das ist nacht!
                kuss mich morgen:
zu wahrheit die gähnen-mittag-von-die-sonne:
sonne das nie blinken oder schlafen...
nacht ewig: ein nacht alles uns!

i disintegrate into German from English
since... English is sort of German with some
*******-workings of pseudo-French workings...

oh but the conversations you hear...
the sort of fears blacks have concerning American culture...
the anti-racism culture of England...
too much was said in order for me to write
something equivalent to a haiku:
we, just, get, along...
   sure... i get it... there are outliers...
anti-racist white girls and their fetishes...
i have a fetishes for mushrooms and cats...
and caterpillars... i have a fetish for Turkish girls...
i have a fetish for Teutonic crusader songs...
i have a fetish for the German tongue...

but the young copper-necks like working
with me... i like them... i like their hue...
they're lazily employed at first but they soon build up
momentum...
when that happens i just start singing Teutonic songs
in my head.... i.e. we're here to get paid...
we're not in an army...
i'm planning to ******* to the land of Nod
from 2am through to 12pm... with my cat sleeping
with me... sure... i wish it was a woman...
let's not wish on too much...
first i need to scratch my scar tissue...
peel off some scab... eat it like a dog...
Jemminah really ****** me off...
not that she was an easy catch...
   but because she was a ginger and an impossible catch...

but that's the beauty of life:
you're never going to get what you "think" you're
supposed to expect... that never happens...
no one is ever promised to be born with
a crown of thorns of the crown of England...
are they?!
the idea is to diffuse the "situation"...
unlike in Republics... the old ways remain
the same... keep the majority a majority...
and then keep a scrutiny on the minority
that want to exist outside of the realm of the minority:
faking majority rule...
but?! first you have to sort out the fake minority
rule of PRIDE politico *******...
no one likes a minority detailing rules
for a majority to follow...
what one likes? individuals to detail rules
for a majority...
individuals > minorities when it comes
to the dynamic of ruling over the majority...

   classical western democracy cannot ever champion
the minority... a sub-class that undermines
the class of people that require to be guided...
this sub-class of individualism can never
undermine the individual...
but individualism is not somehow spawned:
orientated: dictated: by precursors...
it "arrives" when it must "arrive"...
                      
           give my heart and my feet a rest....
spawn some new idiots...
some spares of asp, wasp...
this night... drinking cider under this one specific
weeping willow...
dreadlock i.e. Jamaica is nowhere to be found...

/god forbid you should consume any proteins, eggs, meat,  cheese late in the evening, say, closing in on 9pm, when feeling peckish... the following will do just fine:

because hobbits eat six times a day,
the three main meals,
and a minor meal in between,
and then closure,
     i found that sleeping pills
work better when you allow yourself
to fill the stomach like a haggis
sack... burping bagpipe table
manners of Germans...
            a slice of sour crust bread,
a ripe tomato,
    a raw onion sliced into
  blooming rings,
       a raw tooth of garlic...
salt and pepper...
       and an antipasto side of a spicy
pepper filled with... wait for it:
indeed not curd cheese,
and certainly not sauerkraut
   (i've been trying to convert the Turks
of Berlin to use sauerkraut
instead of raw red cabbage when
musing the pickled chilies added
to bite past the lamb fat of a kebāb)...
no, antipasto of spicy peppers
filled with... süßkraut...
                  godsend of a feast,
easy on the stomach, notably
as a precursor to spectating a variant
to my usual drinking habit of
a litre of whiskey ice and coca-cool'ah...
cheating i might add,
   half a litre of ***** de luxe...
        cut up into 25ml shots from
a crystal mushroom glass...
with a shandy chaser...
                   since forever drinking alone
had made more sense than
in the company of others...
most of them, miserable *******
never really go off on a tangent
talking 'bout art...
     most never seem to have left
  the school playground...
    i'm sorry but women drinking always
look for feuds, or sport in genral
between a courting and a jealous buck...
and it seems only *****
split into 25ml bites and a chaser
is a way to get through half a litre,
writing and listening civilisational termites...
burrowing into the throne
of the pagan gott von die wald,
should he fall to his ***,
   get up like a Jack pouncing
on springs... and become
                 the teuflischwitzbold!

on my way back from a shift at the London Stadium:
chim-chimeney chim-chim chimey...
we're the boys in claret and blue...
the cockney boys... resounded the drunken football
chants... walking among these "boys":
i felt inclined to find myself with some camaraderie...
my god... the atmosphere on the event...
West Ham vs. Seville... 1 - nil in the 90 minutes...
everyone working the steward shift was sort of
gagging: please no penalties...
boys... just finish it off in extra time...
and boy... they delivered...
   what was supposed to be a 10:30pm: ******* home
became a: 11:15pm: ******* home...
my stomach shrank to a size of a walnut...
you eat a pasty at, say... 2pm...
             then it's all Ramadam downhill from there on in...
i was gagging for a chicken burger once i reached
Romford... but the queue! the ******* queue in
the chicken shop... and at the bus stop i read:
3 minutes until the one-oh-three arrives...
well... it's coming way past 12am... i'm not going to
wait an extra 20 minutes... just so i can buy a chicken
burger / wrap / five spicy chicken wings and a dabble
in chips... plus... a 7 hour shift... 1.5h to get to the venue...
1.5h to get back... my stomach... shrunk to the size
of a walnut... i'm going to get a stomach ache if i eat
too much... there's some pita bread: let's pretend they're
naan bread... and some leftover curry...
peanut butter curry... what do i find in the leftovers?
one piece of chicken... a cherry tomato...
i cut the pita bread in half... i'll drink more...
plenty of that bubblegum bourbon where it came from...
i don't get it though...
Bukowski and the drudgery of work...
compared to studying chemistry...
compared to roofing... this... "job"... is a ****-take...
it insults my intelligence...
then again: i have this avenue to mind...
i don't care... i'm sticking around for as long as it takes
to get good references...
always on time... always well dressed...
mindful of coworkers...
      blah blah... blah...
                  even today... my god... the atmosphere was
great... i had... zilch worth of worry
about pitch-"invaders"...
        i have this one spot... gate 139...
   three pundits that took a liking to me...
everytime they see me... i greeted with a thirst for joviality...
i don't seem to recognise / see any other stewards
getting hugs... Chris... upon leaving he says
to me: this stand is so much different with your
around... you what? yeah... you come round
to all the other stewards... asking how they're doing...
by simply kneeling down beside them...
you make them feel important...
but they are...
              hugs, high fives... people have been
starved when it comes to physical contact...
i can... see it... last time around i was given leftovers
of gummy bears... gelatin sweets...
i'll get to know the other pundits names...
Chris is already covered...
   but like i explained to this chubby cutie...
i have a weak-spot for gelatin sweets...
rubber-dummies... you can hide the chocolate...
i'm not after that...
but people want to hug... so... i hug...
         and if i really do care about my coworkers...
then? i care about my coworkers...
today was a bit of mash-up...
   i was sharing the position of break-duty guy with
a Brendan... misinformation...
if i did the role alone... i would have covered everyone...
like this one girl...
now... i'm not the prettiest "thing" alive...
but... you sort of sport subtle cues...
you give a recipe for a banana loaf to a supervisor
that's a woman... you're friends with her mother...
she sends you photographs of her: hey presto...
now she appears...
   with freshly washed hair... mascara...
and lipstick...
this other girl? i knew she was pretty...
the first two times i saw her?
she was donning fake eye-lashes...
long enough to compete with nails of black girls...
mixed-race... does that bother me?
oh **** no... i like an ethnic cocktail...
rabbit **** for a deer ****... sizes counter matter...
today? all her fake eyelashes were gone...
sure... she slapped on some extra make-up...
dyed her hair... how did she position herself?
sort of... right... next to me...
it's so cute... not looking when "blinking"...
across the horizon... to find a girl looking at you...
it's cute... when a girl looks at you
not looking at her...
       is she ******* telepathic or something?
last time i saw her i was thinking:
you'd look really pretty without those fake eyelashes...
i mean: there are eyebrows...
and there are fake eyelashes...
i can't see the iris of your eyes! let alone the sclera!
how pretty she looked...
such a shy 5ft7 number...
         i almost wanted to crumble a cookie before
her eyes and tell her: cutie-pie...
cute... cute.... cute... i want you to become
my BAMBINO...
on the way back i figured... well... this gig is going
to die a sad little death... not before i get my references
will i get an SIA licence to become a security guard...
i'm thinking... teaching...
but these four friends were talking on the train...
i never had friends to go to football matches together...
i should mind... eh...
there are other pleasures in life...
   hmm... le wagon coding bootcamps...
full-time / part-time courses end in April 2022...
maybe... a digital nomad?  
coding... teaching... but at the same time i'm looking
at this petite... mixed race... critter of a beauty...
she dyes her her... relinquishes those ugly
fake... stick on eye-lashes... now her body matches
up to her: ever more so petite face...
what a tender, pretty sight...
              i like a bit of a "permanent" sun-tan...
   like any blue-blooded whitey...
   id love some DNA invigoration... like any Windsor
might... i'm looking at her...
Wojciech Kilar's Dracula: the Beginning
is playing in the back of my mind...
while i think about... breaking her... performing
******* *** on her...
              with a body comparison: ratio...
i would break, her...
      thank god she's not wearing those fake eye-lashes...
now i can see her eyes...
i can also concentrate on her eyebrows...
and all the other features of her face...
some Asian... oriental guy kept chatting her up...
two semi-toddler twins ran down to her gate
"inquiring"... i just watched as her face glowed
in the artifact of the potential of being a mother...
i get those two... interludes...
frustrated glimpses into being a father...
   i get them...
    they're rather spontaneous...
they last for about... 5 hours at a time...
the day? i rarely have a choice...
                                    but i sometimes
come to the conclusion:
i made bad choices...
                 then again: was anything, counterproductive?
was there something, "spectacular"
awaiting me? i don't think there ever was...
so... what loss?!
i have this whole Dracula mythology in place...

i feed off the shadows...
the night... the forest... the moon...
in Deutsche...
  
       ich füttern aus die schatten,
die nacht.... der wald...
   der mond...