sucked dry.

duders,
i took yesterday off.
it's true.
i mean, i totally worked an' sh!t,
but i was most definitely on leave from my senses.
why?
oh, y'know-
because the friday freakazoid F*-fest was in furious full-effect-
a crucial creature kaleidoscope was the only option on the docket,
in terms of visuals, residuals,
and interactive interrogative overreactions.
the boogeymen and women of the woodsly goodness
were all oozing and schmoozing with the very best of us.
which is to say: me.
i'm a lonely fella, folks,
but i don't know that this solution was what i was hoping for.
huh?
neighbors,
it was a massive monster mash-up of miscommunication,
hard styles, loooong hours, shortchanged movie-checks,
and generally genial-yet-unsatisfying grinding on that
tattbomb jauns.
it keeps happening, kids.
all of it.
lots of dangling carrots, tied to beat-down ugly sticks.
yuuuup.
semi-exposed and fully malformed.
the stumplestiltskin blarpers keep trying to get me to
guess their names.
what do i win if i do?
a couple of dollars, a wasted hour or two,
an absence of understanding, commonality, and satisfaction,
and a whole other 'nother day of digging a bigger hole.
***********
what?
more bleak outlook outreach for your face?
...ooookay.
but remember,
you asked for it-
every day is like a giant spider.
no foolin'.
anti-social, bloodthirsty, and totally mutha-F*ing 'sgusting!
teleport:

ugh.
so gross.
that specific specimen of organ-melting, sticky webbed entrapment
lives just above the door to the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
she kills everything she kisses.
metaphor?
i dunno,
but when the world around you, and up above you,
is a whole lot like shelob,
us just-be-dope moths get suckered in, coiled up,
immobilized, neutralized, injected, dissolved, disintegrated,
and digested.....and then sh!t out like nutrient-depleted
doo-doo buttery blops of old news.
awwwww, man.
how much do i hate spiders?
well,
how much is the biggest amount?
double it, my ninjas.
i just can't hang out with black widows with black hearts
and hourglass A*s.
personally and professionally,
all there is is all the monsters.
*
thunder-sundered blundering through these hours and hours.
true story.
spanning time and spacing out and spelunking the deepest
depths of the darkest parts.
endure?
sure;
never quiet, never soft.....