moonflower.

duders,
it's happening again.
twenty eight days later an' sh!t.
we're back on that wax attack,
the werewolfen lead up,
the lycanthropic appetizer,
the pushy pull of the tidal wavelengths.
neighbors,
the luxurious luminescent lunar cycle,
at maximun tight and brightness is hard at work...
the fullest and the roundest and the most expert.
it's berserker barbarian battle-beast activation,
and futuristic hard-style pounding, from space.
cosmic radiation,
transmitting from the orbiting dispensation station,
near-perfectly swollen in a circle,
high above our heads,
revolving around and around, merrily,
for plenty of passing volleys of transformative ray beams.
can you feel it?
or are you a non-believer?
c'mon.
i'm sayin',
i can't sleep.
and when i'm asleep,
i'm dreaming about some seriously animal-type action,
and all the in-between jauns have been howling
like the whirling wind on the moors in a horror movie.
today is the day,
and tonight is the night.
i've got a serious case of november,
an even more acute recurring inflamation of the wolfman,
and a lethal strain of expertism.
i can't tell if i'm shapeshifting,
or if my gums and my hairline are just receeding.
awwwwwwwwww, man.
getting older as the skies get darker,
and the year groans to a shuddering cessation.
bleak, y'all.
it's a bleak season,
blue-lit by the cheesewheel above us or not.
*
it is my weekend, though.
officially.
starting now.
what am i going to doo-doo with my time?
squander it?
spend it freely?
while it away?
nope.
i'm gonna spend it wisely,
spinning straw into gold.
that's right, folks.
it's a working weekend.
theoretical design-type business.
guns, zombies, cigars, dress-up, and make-believe.
for real.
***********
if you see a big hairy wolfen-type ninja run by,
with big big teeth,
and too-long of arms,
and a big mange patch on the back of it's head,
be easy.
maybe there's gonna be a brutal stormswept raging
wild animal mauling mayhem extravaganza,
or maybe he just misses you a little tiny bit,
and he's ready to fly by,
by the light of the moon,
and get a glimpse of what's poppin' in your 'hood.
but probably it's the mauling, really.
i mean, c'mon.
why does your glass always have to be half full?
stop that noise, b!tches.
keep your silver linings and your silver bullets to yourselves;
never quiet, never soft.....