but that's just pretend,

and these are just words....
but do you feel it like me?
i feel it pulsing, like blood.
*
so,
how was my anniversary?
c'mon.
don't be dumb.
it was fittingly thirteenish.
a cranky transition into the adolescent animosity that
the developmentally unbalanced teenage years always introduces.
as in:
it sucked all the balls that comprise the whole entire world.
awwwwwwwwww, man.
but,
there's always something redeeming about even the gaytardedest things,
right?
i think so.
in this case,
it was the festivities that facilitated an expert evening.
it took some brutal bitterness to seriously sweeten up
the second section of my spanned times.
once the blistering marrow-depleting doo-doo butter of
the longest half-day of my career drew to it's inevitable,
inexorable execrable ending, with underwhelming results,
things got pretty flippin' activated!
neighbors,
i spent an evening with the real and proper poet laureate.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
can you say living mutha-ucking legend?
that's it, kids.
morrissey.
live, in concert, in sunovab!tching full effect!
that preening crooner rocked the collective socks and shoes,
and in some cases, even the shirts,
off of every breathing body in the house, y'all.
it was just what the doctor ordered.
the experience was a necessary anti-atrophying agent,
and it resuccitated the really realness that the rest of the day
tried it's absolute very hardest to kill.

ummmm.
yeah.
*
Love is natural and realBut not for you, my loveNot tonight, my loveLove is natural and realBut not for such as you and I, my love*
if james bond, an opera diva, and a matador all combined
and then you added oscar wilde and a eastern european princess,
you'd get the basic foundation of what i witnessed last night.
holy crap, kids!
it went to eleven, from the first note to the last.
so much hottness,
for a long-A* setlist of serenaded sadness,
for my face!
i got a dose of that real life good stuff,
...and heaven knows i'm miserable now;
never quiet, never soft.....7x34