filthy.

what the F*?
this is disgusting:

yuck.
looks like my asiatic lilies
won't be rockin' in the free world this year.
sh!t-blop crapperpillars?
c'mon.
why are they so flippin' wet-looking?
butt-nasty little ninjas who crept in overnight
and bit those b!tches to death.
a pestilence of miniature mandibles and inflated thoraxes.
who invited them?
it wasn't me.
i'm trying not to assume it's an omen.
a harbinger of hard-style destruction,
slowly devouring the beauty in the world
in a colostomy raisin monster's mouth.
awwwwwwwww, man.
it feels like that's what's up, though.
to tell the truth, and i always do,
those lilies got off easy.
bite, chew, swallow, done-zo.
that's it.
the end.
quick and brutal and over and out.
no blooms, barely any buds, just a hope,
and a failure, and nobody knows what they've missed
because it didn't actually happen.
there's something to be said for almost.
because it's equally hard to lament and laud it.
it's spilt milk and dry cows simultaneously.
resignation and hope hang out at the same spots, y'all.
i'm sure of it.
***********
it's bike week.
laconia, new hampshire's contribution
to overpriced leather and sausage sandwiches,
sh!tty tattoos,
and image-conscious unity amongst professionals
masquerading as goateed doucheblasters.
hooray.
i'm praying for bad weather.
seriously.
praying.
to old gods, and dark gods, and elemental spirits.
to tempests and fault lines and ma nature's caprice.
i could stand a week of hurricane winds
and hailstones the size of hubcaps.
i mean,
i missed out on my mayday parade day this year,
and i could've really used a dose of that dopeness-
so why not sh!t on their salads, too?
c'mon.
i love company.
i love misery.
it's all really happening.
enjoy your weekend, kids;
i've already made other plans;
never quiet, never soft.....