Sunday, April 8

rza-rection.

across the jugular,
perpendicular to the square!
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
it's easter, neighbors,
the glory of the resurrection,
the unholy terror of the fullest of moons
this side of the tomb.
uh-huh.
today is the day.
alas,
i've no chocolates, no bunnies,
no cellophane grass.
just hard times and hot spit.
for real.
y'know what i did today, ninjas?
i worked.
on that tattbomb grind sh!t, son.
i keep it realer, on any given sunday,
than the hope and the glory of the word of the savior.
daaaaaaaaaaamn.
i said it.
***********
it's a surly, dismal evening in the woodsly goodness.
that's no lie.
i think that the weather needs some serious renovations
because the clouds and the hail are really harshing
the flavor of the elements, y'all.
perhaps some hot fire?
i think it needs to happen.
i've got fuel,
i've got accelerant,
i've got ignition,
and i've got initiative.
what else is there?
you said it;
never quiet, never soft.....

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