overwrought.

i'm not a writer,
i'm just right a lot.
i just right a lot.
i'm just-right a lot.
i just wright a lot.
i'm just wrought a lot.
i'm just overwrought a lot.
haha.
duders,
who is a righteous wright of writing rightly?
i mean, right?
okay. i'll admit i try.
i sure do try.
and my right hand isn't always correct,
and my reeking wreaking of written wrath
doesn't always precisely reflect the intentional inflections,
genuine introspections, and genuflected questions
posed by my gratuitous alliterative rhyming and scheming.
huh?
yep.
it's harder than it looks,
and it takes longer than it should...
i'm tellin' you-
i'm not a writer,
i'm a wordsmith...
with that hot fire furnace bellowing,
hammering home with hard-style pounded punctuation,
honed to a refined edge with unctuous innuendo,
and tempered by pronounceable percussive phrasing-
steeling y'all for some well-wrought, pig-headed,
ironclad worthy warrior poetry from the future.
i doo-doo that.
i'm just sayin', neighbors-
a picture may be worth one thousand of somebody else's words,
but my gilded lilies and (royal) purple prose are expensive.
none of that 1/1,000th bullsh!t ratio over here.
right or wrong,
i wright and i write and i right.
and even when i'm wrong,
i aright, and then i write.
y'know?
alright.
*
it's my weekending workday, today.
i couldn't be happier about that.
i'm setting records for appreciation of underappreciation.
get it?
i like how unliked and unlikely it all seems to be.
c'mon.
two days off,
home alone,
getting set and ready,
and going.
where?
nowhere!
awwwwwwwwwww.
it's all really happening, friends-
that's the whole point.
this is What Is.
ready or not, it's coming at you.
*
one special moment in time,
for your faces:

spranks.
you know.
choco candy mouse poops on lemon sorbet,
under and well-covered by berry blops with
real life portable rainbow happiness by the swarm.
a rampant and resplendent host of hundreds and thousands,
heaped upon my cup,
which literally runneth over!
yuuuuuuuuup.
right onto my crotchal pants, mid-scoopleful.
no jokes.
skanky spranks attacked my wiener!
shhhhh.
it's okay...i kinda liked it.
sticky jeans and purple splotches;
never quiet, never soft.....