cider queen

to have invested so much in that it would have
to yield so little... it's hardly a making
of a degradation...
  but it's also a looting of the most believable:
         pretending to be a member of a club:
         blistering at the crux
of "being" ordained... the kippah for a bowl
of grue: green and blue... or perhaps oats...
      semolina with milk... then again...
i just wait for the: first come first served...
and that's how... the guise of hyper-inflated
publishing works... it's a shortcut
in the chemical labyrinth of the ol' Brian:
 i.e. the brain... since there's no
"grand scheme of things": who isn't waiting for
a dickensian paragraph...      who is?
    feed me some more sputnik spunk and
golgotha wine and i'll rattle you with a juggling
and audacity that's: pure rhetoric on paper...
 but it's not what's somehow the last
possibility... of my peers there are no
robinson crusoe remainders...
no cul de sac echoing back footsteps to this:
if life was a necessary hyper-inflated scrutiny of
repetition that's  well proportion for:
the army of the sea vs. the army of the cliffs...
           brief interludes with mongol fire...
 or the ottomans...
        extending epochs of the wind and...
  glimpses of the far east
within the confines of the haiku...
otherwise: to thank the greeks for democracy...
but then the reply concerning alexander...
fairness exemplified... given enough years
and fudge-packaging a stupendous
grey area of dunce and gimmick comatose relief...

  alizee - moi lolita....
        so little of fwech and euro-trash
first becomings...
      my own toes tied to the over-sexed like:
jerking off blind drunk while
extracting the least
fathomable entree of a... a loaf metaphor...
          
      such that the last known depravity
is an analogy in:
in the kingdom of the blind...
the one-eyed are king...

or giving limbo status to a peacock
strutting... and the drool associated
with biting into a lychee perversity / persuasion...
  
 it's otherwise such a formidable roundabout
of the common parle of...
   a mediocre apple...
exemplified should push come
to shove when transformed into a cider...

 but when so much is being allowed...
so much is made inclusive...
it' beyond fathom...
that there is such an adamant stressor
to make counters with...

you couldn't possibly make
watermelon ice-cream...
you could... make... a sherbert...
an ice concept of pop!

ice... pop... brittle is a necessary
adjective...
              brittle ice...
                       tooth-pick loot...
a carpet of concrete slabs...
        i do remember being prepubescent
while also being sexually "active":#
i masturbated
before i could provide the sludge
for moloch's altar...

    even if you were to guillotine
my testickles dry i'd tell you: there's a sensation
that's a priori to the actual
provision of semen...
           but that there's a muddle
of an a posteriori connectivity...
to make these affairs synonym...

for all the prized conventions
of leftist liberalism... and this... pauper...
this... it's impossible to not want
to... grimace: sour puss sucking a lemon:
       with the words...
why, not, so... supposedly... inclusive?
                
  it's impossible to join
the left politico with a hard-on
because... it's not the pyramid scheme...
and: as i have seen a pedophile
get drop-kicked in the face
giving out flyers: supposedly anonymous...
 
           no... very impossible!
it's not like...
  i would ever watch the end of Wimbledon...
and see the duke of kent...
prince edward KG, GCMG, GCVO, CD, ADC
is not! des Esseintes!
clearly! most evidently!
third removed, a cousin of the narrative!
but under no scrutiny of
the public eye... given the trophy ceremony...
inspecting the ball boys and girls...
like one might: inspecting
a horse's teeth...

who's fooling who when the "plebs" are
making scrutiny of:
the welcome pedophiles from: on 'igh and oink...
i sometimes wonder as to why...
perhaps pedohpiles find the grown
woman... too... intimidating...
too... blasé... some variation to test
personal memory cinema with a rigour
of archeology?
          a grown woman can be
such a biological fixation:
an impasse...
                          what is... a return to youth...
i remember being kissed for the first
time when aged 7...
   the erotica of prebubescence is hardly...
that... genesis primer
of sex and hormones...
and... being led by the current of influence
of those that failed...
mimic sex...
              ordeal of a body yet
to be made subject to...
coercive chemical soup...
   or what teenage girl are sold...
when they are told... teenage pop culture...

to shelter a kiss before the hormones...
it's like... being a gemini twin bound
to the expression of a typhoon...
                         the sensation of clenching
a breath... and that loss of brass
when the image confinement machinery
of consciousness "relaxes"...

        as such... i want to understand
the depravity rather than the immediacy
of a reaction to it...
that, the latter... pushes it
into the extremity of moloch
baby raping cannibalism...
which is beside... anything
a marquis de sade mind might conjure...
the pedophile must find
the adult woman intimidating...
in that... she is a transcendence of
reproach...
      she's not the safe material
of juvenilia of teenage summer love
stories of teasing the erotic of
same-sex loot...
        
                      aren't we somehow
allowed some complete...
god-like... freedom of thought?
esp. if there's no... moral (th)ought
translation?
                    can't we... in a democracy...
enjoy... our own... despotism...
nabokov-putinism and therefore...
retain a return to:
a cohesive... sensible...
a democratic society...
but if all we can... in thought...
in air... but not with ink...
in blood... a scribbling hyena cackle...
on pseudo-paper...

              for the act itself...
esp. with toddlers...
          countless examples...
but we're "talking" borderline...
schoolyard antics...
                                the hormone brigade
before a woman becomes
intimidating... demanding...
a widow...
                           a pure nazi bride
misnomer / metaphor...
                
i am sympathetic to the theatre of thought...
because...
 i known the pre-ordained shackles
of restraint that allow me to...
decipher a waistcoat as imploring...
buttons included / buttoning up inclined...
a tie has a methodology of tying involved...
as do shoelaces...

it's socially normative / expected...
               however: how i curate the despot
ego... and how i please... to showcase it before
a willing crowd of digestive major...
is my and my audience's choice...
 third parties are excluded since
there was never a subscript of a signed
understanding translation...

      i want to be, at best... completely...
misunderstood.