happy? berfday!

duders,
happy mutha-b!tchin' candle-blowin' hard-hearted older-and-even-busteder berfday.
...to me.
awwwwwwww, man!
thirty seven years old, in a row,
and today is the day it all starts over and over again.
yeah.
my early late thirties, kids.
that's a thing.
what. the. F*?!
check the greyskull teleport, y'all:

c'mon.
stay ugly, stay dope.
that's every day, all the time.
and it's the truest story, told truly by yours truly to all my worthy warrior poets.
it's written in wiry hairs and wrinkly eyes, y'know?
the maintaining and remaining heinous part is easy, i let my face do most of the work on that;
it's the just being dope part that takes all the effort.
every day some new kind of participation gets poppin'.
...because it has to.
expert activation is in order,
since the likelihood of my berdfday wishes coming true is inconceivably far-fetched.
instead,
i think a more realistic brutal berserker barbarian battle-beastly birthly celebration is more appropriate.
flipping the F* out all day?
i can most definitely doo-doo that savage stormswept raging gypsy furious werewolf sh!t.
and why not?
it's my day, right?
right.
hell,
i already started it off with three times the heroic T'n'T hottness, y'heard?
teleport:

yuuuuuuuup!
buttery, peanut buttery, and black(power)berry jammie-jam.
today more than usual, the object has got to be more, neighbors.
i mean, what else could it be?
*
early morning surprises were also on the table, my ninjas.
berfday times mean anything can happen, i guess.
my estranger-danger housemate, jessica, gave me a present.
huh?
yeah, for realsies.
that was nice, no question, and since i have always and forever loved getting treats-

word up.
and i woke up to a holy sh!t-ton of warm wishes an' that,
from the far flung corners of everywhere else, and a few from hereabouts, too.
berfday surprises, yo.
i like 'em, sometimes.
take a closer look at what's inside that brown paper and vining twine:

real talk.
i seriously doubt there will be any terrorizing,
but the devastation of spirit and memory are nearly complete and total.
thirty seven years old,
in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
in the woodsly goodness,
in the rural northern mountains.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....