sweet and bitter.

what makes Tea 'N' Toast taste better?
well, i'd say raspberry jam, usually.
but not today, neighbors.
in fact, it's not a spreadable sweetness,
or the power-packed protein of peanut butter,
or the fatty-boombattie blops of butterish beigeness.
uh-uh,
when it comes down to why today's breakfast
has got a more than usual amount of super-deliciousness,
it's got to be the flavor enhancing hottness
of a gorgeous morning view of the dawn's early an' that,
peaks piqued in pink at the edge of the mountains,
in plain sight out the windows of the Fortress-.
check the victorious natural teleport:

yeah!
peachy-pink cliffs, y'all,
illuminated by the rising sun,
and framed by thick drifts of freshly driven snow.
woodsly goodness in flipping full effect, yeah?
sure thing.
***********
there's only so much hard-style pounding
right up your A*-hole that you
can reasonably be expected to take, right?
no,
not literally.
i'm pretty sure there's no upper limit on that, yo.
i mean,
we cannot be expected to act
as happily queued-up agents of our own undoing,
...can we?
it depends on who you ask, i guess.
 i, for one, am surely not very excited about the prospect
of choosing, from a list of wholly unacceptable choices,
which form of destruction will be the one
that ruins my well-being and all that good sh!t.
what?
actually, no,
i'm not talking about the american
presidential election this year.
wow.
good guess though.
kudos.
i'm more concerned, in a rationally self-interested way
in the future of my continued capitalist existence
in the fiscally faltering, physically failing white mountainous region.
what?
i'm serious.
after nearly nine years of doing the exact same thing,
putting down roots so deep they somehow seem to
fall down from the sky like prison bars.
ouch.
roots as the roots of all evil?
dang.
yet another bright and sunny observation by
the warriors of poetic justice-type jauns.
it's finally high time i put some thought into what happens next.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
y'know,
when you think ahead,
you're always living in the future.
but the one problem with being from the future?
i can see everything but my own timeline.
and that's the hardest style of all, y'all.
a fugue state of being,
blurry-edged and disassociated from the
Folk Life lifelines, present but unaccounted for,
whilst still accountable for whatever the plans unfold...
so,
the question remains-
how much F*ing is too much F*ing when it's
the kind of doo-doo buttery partnerless porkblasting
that humps beehives and wallets yet leaves neither
swollen up enough to justify the gesture?
endure, persevere, overcome, or overthrow.
long nights and hard times, kids.
movie checks and bodychecks.
working and living.
and not nearly enough of either;
never quiet, never soft.....