rabbit rabbit...

muttered, murmured, rumored,
whispered, whiskered, and so on...
it's the first of the month again, neighbors-
and despite all evidence pointing to the
contrary nature and fickle fingers of fate's good grace?
yep.
i said it again and again.
that echoed utterance of supercilious superstition.
that smug spell, cast from superfluous optimism,
whispering through the willowy whips i call lips,
out into the world,
for a fleeting flash of the lash,
past teeth and into ears,
to be neither heard nor heeded.
you know it, kids:
rabbit, rabbit.
day one;
two words, or one word, twice, really;
four syllables;
month eight;
sixteen separate nuanced seances of pronounced nouns;
and so on and so forth.
good luck?
yeah, sure, good luck with that.
wishful thinking as a matter of rote routine?
once a month, my ninjas.
that's all.
a prima palabra contingency for fortune's favor.
what do you mean, 'is it working'?
oh.
um, no, actually, it's not.
okay then-
so what about hard styles, long nights,
hurt hearts, bruised feelings, broken ribs, and brutal truths?
ah-ha!
now that's the big action activated business plan
that we can bolster up, and stand behind, b!tches.
because,
in addition to being unavoidable,
it's all already really happening,
and a couple of bunnies being burst out of my face
sure as sh!t isn't gonna reverse the course we've plotted
to those flat, finite edges of the whole wide world.
recognize.
tears, sweat, spit, blood, and other saltwater spills
are the all-inclusive ablutions this warrior poet uses to innovate,
inoculate and inculcate the weak sauce with concentrated
werewolfen raging stormswept savage berserker barbarian
battle-beast bouillon, just so i can stew in my juices,
marinate, activate, and eventually evaporate up and out,
over the airwaves, meeting up with, merging and mastering
the resounding sounds of
rabbit, rabbit,
ricocheting across the firmament and fleeing facefirst
into the hidey-holes and labyrinthine warrens of really real life.
that's some sh!t, friends.
gone to ground?
mostly just gone.
like a sidewalk-chalked summoning circle scrawled
out in longhand notation,
to a stock-still freestanding ovation;
composed completely under cover of the clouds,
applauded by thunderclaps,
the whole sky moved to cry it's rainy drops of erasure.
washing it away as fast as i can put it down.
too bad.
***********
don't worry.
(i know how y'all get)
it's cool.
how can you believe me?
because sprankles happened.
that's a thing, still.
teleport?
okay:

yumyum.
blah blah blah.
sending off july on a debilitating date with
not one, but two pretty girls who couldn't care less.
ugh.
what goes great with disaster and disappointment?
vegan treats in portland, maine.
yeah. that's real.
i ate a hundred pounds of food yesterday.
so many plumpy dumplings of varying degrees
of fried fattieboombattie deliciousness.
seriously, SO many.
i doo-doo those dumps, duders.
haha.
i took self-destructive gluttony to eleven,
and then,
when i got back home,
i went out to dinner,
and did it all to myself again.
again?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
again.
chowing indian spicy-hot brown goobieblops,
like a championship title fight bout for gastric supremacy.
and then those spranks got powered up
and forced down my facehole and into my gullet.
that's that best-for-last-type sh!t, ninjas y'heard?
uh-huh.
*
i can feel it in my bones,
i'm gonna spend my whole (remaining) life alone.
all run, no F*.
real talk;
never quiet, never soft.....