conradconrad

this is not a conspiracy... a dream (wrong: right you are! democratic "parallel")

how many vaccinations do i remember?
some called chicken-pox a virus infection
of children....
so if one child contracted the virus
the neighbours' child was exposed
to it: so it went under the iron curtain...

but i did receive vaccination for
those other in the triad: Odra...
measles?
         it's named a furry thing in one language
a river in another...
not the Vistula plague...
or the Varta plague riddling posing-nan?
Possen?

i'm pretending to be all: fuzzy-brainz...
but... i do remember...
the mad-cow disease epidemic...
in england...
and what arrived after:
meningitis... in the realm of youth...
i remember going to school like
nothing was going to happen...
it didn't... meningitis took grip of my neighbour's
brain... expected bullock-freeze...
yes... it was real...
phantom stranger! how are you?
after all: pandemic sounds less sinister
than epidemic ever will...
i'm actually tired of the narratives
from both aisles of furroging for antics...
more like broken limbs...
but when meningitis was rife...
and there was a vaccine on the ready...
nothing stopped...
life preserved itself: continued...

lucky for me to be writing from england...
after all the bombing from
the media Hindenburg sinking
for seemingly years upon years concerning
the topic of Brexit...
i much prefer recycling in...
well by now ol' nature is just
a boring orgy of scents...
summer come the zenith
winter the nadir...

if it only woul could feel authentic...
again: subjectivity is not...
"necessary"? it's sub-human sub-optimal?
no? if it could feel authentic...
then what the fuck's worth of use
do i have with thoughts that
objectively "sound" yet always tend to
masequerade around brining me
a fucking margueritta!

what good is a line of argument:
surrounding doubtful thinking...
yes... "once upon a time":
it "feelz": yes... a certainty of heart is above
all else a certainty of self...
the mind is a fucking lost labyrinth
of do i, don't i, be i, bitten bollocks
ripple effects rife!

meningitis was real...
the young were affected...
there was a vaccination we all took
in school:
they pretended to call it:
brain-freeze of: fatty-brainz-does-do-d'ah...
but... shit on me:
the panic button is frozen...
re-setting:
back toward alley candle working
our way from the Edison project...
nice... fucking Kazakhstani and all!

point being: who are the orcs...
the ugly trolls... the nazis?!
i suppose almost everyone!
           i've been assured to comply:
2 weeks homebound...
i've had a garden to tend to...
some decorating d.i.y. work... no problem...
big on the HBO show SUCESSION...

grandfather just died i'll heave
my mother being angry at the world:
i'll just take down my uncle and my grandmother...
no biggy...
happy are those who's relatives haven't /
or have yet to: die in this... "crisis"...

meningitis was a real fear:
but we, fucking, ploughed along!
now a fucking cockroach is the scary "bit":
the bit of temporal sacrifice where:
you don't fucking eat it?
i wouldn't dare to kill a fly...
i would... however... dare to catch one
with my forehead...
and then flick it into a spiderweb...
how's that?

i'm tired listening to either side of
the argument...
when a ponent disease of rot brain appeared
and coincided itself with bad beef
because the cows were infected with
a bug that made them appear to be drunk /
english girls... cows...
in those would come harrowing new:
redundencies of urban gob: a Leicester high-street
excursion...
how they would drink, dress up skimpy:
and eat nothing but bones and dust:
you'd ask... some marrow?
no would come the reply...

mind you: it's not like i would ever
find myself eating out...
the odd friday with the need for
the chippy... and some cod...
but... i would never eat out...
did that once... off camden town high street
from one of these chinese vendors...
had the shits for 3 hours...
i never eat out because i...
well: i'll sooner trust pissing into my hands,
then ejaculating into them...
then fiddling through some shit...
then washing them...
before i attend to preparing some
food...
it doesn't affect me because:
i don't / nor ever have... eaten to be seen...
i'm not a lion and what i'd be eating
wouldn't be a hunted down gazelle...
would it?
so what's the fucking point
of window-shopping food in reverse?
what's this fetish for eating in public?
in public... yeah...
as in... in victorian times...
the opiate junkies would congregate
into a hush-lazy "paragraph"?

maybe we should show all th slaughterhouses!
eating in public... all that 20th century
existential narcissism leveraging the french:
to be is to be seen...
minus the restaurant antics...
call me old fashioned but:
the only food i like to it...
is the food i cook myself...

would i like to extend that into
hunting for my food...
it's the 21st century...
unless for a delicacy...
but... i rather like to cook the food
i'm about to eat...

eating in public... pigeons eat in public...
or a variation of that...
can i extract a proverb from all
of this akin to:
better a sparrow in your hand,
than a dove on your roof?

last time i heard the arguments
for abortions could extend into genocide:
like... i jerk off and the spunk is...
flushed down into the toilet with
the crocodiles... an act of genocide...
but... in the "meantime"...
the abortion clinic rife from
the already waiting... pre-automation
fake herr hirsch and frau hirsch robo...
you know...
where do you clog the details of life
with these people?
tending to the late abortion:
it's a dandy day to be down syndrome?!
imagine a placing of human muscular
nd jaw abiding...
because i'm not a plumber...
i'm also... not tending to the farm
of goo and skittles...
rephrase that, as i must...

who's the genius behind...
oh... right... Barr... it's no IRN BRU...
but it's most fucking certainly cream soda...
i just imagine if Barr and Krupp had
a collaboration projects...
bombs made from carbonated sugar bomb
orgy boom boom explosions of fizz!

we have to be talking about reinventing
abortion?
or... genocide... no?
if automation is to be forwarded... no?
fair enough if you tell the women:
no abominations!
some people: the polacks, backward people...
well... would you require christening
a cyclops? a brain-deadening
form that's not even a homo similis:
an ape replica: otherwise:
consent to abort! if th ancient ritual
of incest are practised!
rape? m'eh...
forget the cross: burden yourself
with moloch... which is...
a double-edged sword...
given all the kosher medicine...
all the sacrificed foreskins!
fuck me... ed gein looks sorta pale and impaled
on his own cringe...
skin is skin...

so much for concerns when
there's "golf" that's to be incubated and...
involved... sorry... invoked...

how is there status quo... peeping-tommy...
there's an argument for the piggies
at the trough...
leveraging for needs of
the imploded concept of a passport...
such is this federal cwispy clean...
because it's no Relsh or Velsh:
or anything like Cornwall...

you don't need to go anywhere:
and anywhere is "anywhere":
chuck in the bums but not the incarcerated
by mr. bar and the lucid brigade...

milan kundera has more geographic "details":
the ural mountains and the Caucasian...
  what's what? cocky-asians?! whites?
whites are somehow cock-asians?
must be a new turkic plantative of
congregational dynamics of: usher in the whites!
the germanic peoples, the pedantic anglicans...
and the steppe mongrels and mongols...
the turks too!
let's all play that fucking
monopoly game of: exodus africanus!

i lost the tan...
how did i get the squinting
the sucking on the lemon bit?!

otherwise...
which is probably east...
belarus and ukraine...
but germany is never noted as...
the vest...
austria: eastern-reich is still: vest...
central europe doesn't translate for
the anglophones... or, rather...
it never existed to begin with...
esp. under the guise of the toilet paper
mache of herr neville chamberlain...
no... not ever: nor would be...

in Ypres... oh how hollow tusk of ivory
those graves: indented with
hallow / hollow epitaph esque signatures...
and they stand: shoulder to shoulder...
withering amass in slabs of earth
extending for the onlooker's mile...
so pale... antidote misanthropic...
world war one...
and do they tell you how they
buried the central, ahem! ahem!
how they buried the germans?!
in mass graves... where the robin and the sparrow
still sings... mass graves that weren't
this fucking spectacle of past colonial endeavours...
where oak and pine,
birch... and brass took stand to root!

east is east my fucking closure!
east is by no means
the intricacy of the veins
of the danube...
hungary belongs to the huns...
watch me... concerning myself
with the ottoman reconquista...
this is, "now":
the ottoman reconquista, no?
fuck my pork under-salted...
the grand orator is missing the mark
when history is being governed by
a hard--on escaping the promises
of secular bull.......... shit?!

two tongue a piece:
i never spiked one tongue above
a contesting Machiavellian brooding
over a furrowing of brows...
above another...

this eastern bloc?
and the federalised states of h'america?
because this is; surprising history!
lithuania and latvia...
30+ million people just...
oops... "forgotten"?
cock-proud of cuckoldry of
the desired... voices
of the proud: teasing vaginas!
the fuck you get your mongol-pseudo
gizmos from?
a soho proud sperm deposit?!

how does a sperm bank work...
concerning the dichotomy
of credit                    /                 debit?!
is that dichotomy even fease(a)ble?
worst for sawn-off worse for dicta:

yes... my teeth are by no means...
extending toward the exploration
tendencies of bone: via an x-ray...
by demand of a non-persuasive argument...
by teeth are furry... they are furry with an itch...
they are... i have itchy teeth because:
i'm a limp-dick impersonato...
a castrated wow from a harem
of a harem... of the castrated lobotomies
of phallus endowed...
entertaining the sugar-coated
princesses... tease angelic etc...
blah blah, blah... lost toy cunts...
aber?! gott ist einz! mit unz!

with an east bought: this austrian
closure... forever flimsy baron...
flaking amnesia...
no you scratch my back i
scratch: how about my fingernails
task themselves over the details
over your gravestones
having no epitaphs like
blitzkriegs concerning them...

verbiage of the dritte-reich:
modus operandi gucci or some other
borrowed tailor from
the league of lombardy?
    
/ / /  nothing concerning "stupid"....
but when one is being interrupted
with a..  b'ah b'ah internet
connectivity...
when one's lightbulbs are in play...
leauge of own's own: slo-mo...
fuck off where money
become daffodil sprouts...

don't i: oh yes... that's where i
know "where":
and towing "know"
i have to attempt to white lie:
a... borrow. / / / /

that i rarely dream...
picking up a body from the grave:
clinging to me like a hurt puppy...
apparently a resurrection:
i deigned to believe i was peeling
my own skin off...
walking him in my arms
back to his home:
peering through a window
that acted like a mirror
into someone else's home...
then seeing this resurrected
body get back to a healthy
b.m.i.
while eating raisins using
toothpicks...
switch to a day later...
perhaps the face is the same...
but the eyes are sinister...
glowing amber...
the first time eyes have
taken prominence in my dreams...
prior to: teeth...
then a haunting sequence...
i'm being asked
to prick a ladybird with a needle:
purple smoke comes
out with the deed:
the house is apparently cleansed
from "voodoo"...
i guess this all comes back
to the night before:
sitting in the garden
wanting to remember a face
that formerly contorted with
expressions bound
to a still apparent: eucalyptus tree...
but i still had
to take this body from
the crave clinging to me
like either a hurt puppy
or some aberration of skin...
i wondered whether i'd remember
this dream even if i kept it
in the back of my mind
and attempted the daily:
curating the garden one last
time before winter finally
succeeds...
well... that's that.



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