frayed from the fray.

worn out around the edges,
which seem to blur a bit from repeated use, anyway.
that's what's up.
fighting the good fight,
fighting dirty in the spirit of fair play,
above board and below the belt,
bringing the battle to the backside,
and letting the front lines falter...
momentum shifts,
tactics change,
it's guerilla gorilla monsoon season, son.
i've been fighting against nature,
and waging war against infinity
for what seems like an eternity,
and what have i got to show for it?
i'm battered, bruised, bloodied, and busted-
rock solid, but surrounded and overmatched.
nature wins, neighbors.
i should be accepting of that by now, no?
for example:

uh-huh.
a rock IN a hard place.
get it?
that's kind of how it goes, yo.
c'mon.
oh, you like it.
y'all may stay hard, and keep your styles the same,
but life will confine and redefine you,
because that sh!t does not pause to accommodate.
awwww.
next thing you know?
yuuuuuuuup.
trapped.
...damn.
i've got introspection and circumnavigation on lock,
sidestepping straight into the flanking maneuvers,
and enfilades, and ambushes, and armed with
loneliness enough to keep everyone feeling
sad and shriveled from lack of human contact.
so in that sense, there's plenty of withdrawals,
but never a signal for retreat;
and there's only ever more of all of it.
war all the time, kids.
the days around here are numbered,
in ascending order.
forever and ever, and counting.
i don't quit.
i just sustain.
and refrain,
but like in a song though, and not like holding back.
c'mon.
i repeat myself.
i repeat myself.
i repeat myself.
a semi-automatic autonomic angst fusillade of hot fire
and berserker barbarian raging stormswept viking lightning.
that's real.
loud, fresh hardness, from the first volley, blitzkrieg-style.
saving somethin' for the march homeward is for babies.
(we'll eat our F*ing horses before we hold our horses)
today is the day, just like every day.
it's not all bad,
it's just all really happening.
the woodsly goodness provides little glimpses
and glimmers of that just be dopeness, though.
at least,
it sure does if you keep your head down,
your eyes open,
and you watch your step.
refer to the teleport:

uh-huh.
weird fortune cookie mushrooms.
expert.
so what's their prediction?
well, fortune favors the bold, for starters.
no mincey diaperpants waterbaby sh!t up in here.
that's the fortune,
but how about the forecast, my ninjas?
umm-
slightly miserable,
with scattered disappointments,
and a chance of failure clearing up later
with a cold(shoulder) front moving in,
and causing severe windy conditions
as it comes in contact with high pressure
from the north.
the winds of war and winds of change,
with answers blowing in on both.
uh-huh.
that's a thing.
**********
frayed,
but not afraid;
never quiet, never soft.....