cramped fingers, wrecked hands....

...and a calamitously cricked-up neckbone.
cork scoopling and tattbomb zipzapping as hard
as the loud freshness permits me to,
and all of a sudden,
my old age has caught up with me!
i've got bonsai roots for digits, duders.
i've got gnarled knuckles (what's up silent letters?)
i've got a stiff one,
but it's holding up my actual head.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
neighbors.
i'm too old for this sh!t,
but i'm waaaaaaay too young to be all old and busted.
it's a conundrum, my ninjas;
one that has no ostensibly accessible solution.
but,
what i do have is a whole bunch of new hottness.
and that's a good thing.
tomorrow morning i'm inking up these blocks of rock:

yep.
sorry (sorta) about the super-seventies soft-focus blur,
but sometimes,
that's how life looks to some people.
those little baby beauties are due
to get slathered and pressed on some super-sexy
thick-stock earth-toned paper.
arthur-making hand-crushing neck-snapping action.
it's happening.
*
i'm on my own tonight.
it's true.
all by my lonely,
left to languish in anguish over my hurtie parts
and sore bits and broken, ugly, haggard head.
awwwwwwwwwwwww, man. (again)
it's nothing but long, cold nights
and hardy hard styles.
this is the leftover lamentation of a post-full moon
monsterpiece masterwork of hard work and sh!t.
i'm grateful for the time,
but i'm not that amped on the consequences;
never quiet, never soft.....