wetworks.

wintry mixture!!!!
score!
the only day this week that gets the doo-doo butter,
yesterday, while i was working?
50 degrees of sunny sweetness.
manana?
more of that.
we like to refer to that as a sh!t-slad sandwich, son.
that's correct.
a whole day off,
and the only day i spent getting soaked with suck.
F-.
someone, namely ma nature, is obviously mutha-ucking with my A*.
ouch.
***********
tomorrow is santo pasquale day.
that means potatoes are on the menu,
and in the miki-flippin' house, ninjas.
soda bread?
you know it.
wearing green?
obviously.
i won't be getting drunk, though.
sorry, neighbors,
but the brewed up barley b!tchsap isn't gonna pass these lips.
you can still kiss me, though,
despite my complete and total lack of gaelic genetics.
just beware of the horse-teeth, thin lips, and splintery moustache.
those tasty bits will snafu a snog like nobody's business.
real talk.
plus,
vegan boiled dinner makes for musty mustard mustardation, anyway.
so maybe less kissing,
and more kissing up.
i could use the esteem-raising elevation that comes with it.
wordimus prime.
no smooches,
no sunlight,
no chance of a sweet dayful of activities.
a spanning batch of hours, kids.
a connection between days, lasting 24 hours.
the supermoon is waxing,
and the werewolfen thunder is rumbling.
skins are shedding,
claws are shredding,
and big eyes and teeth are peepin', poppin', and protuding.
the better to spit hot fire with, my dears.
animal instincts succeed where words fail...
howling,
disemboweling,
and scowling.
supermoon, ninjas.
18 year cycles,
closest biggest and burliest high tide high times.
the center earth tide brings mountains closer to heavens,
and makes everything in between seem less like midgard,
and more like asgard,
but for all the valhalla hollering in the meanwhile.
hammers and heartbeats and hellstorms.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....