hard hearts.

cultivated coincidences;
and concentric overlapping broken heart-beats;
ripple-effective affected, stagger-stacked stuttering ghost circles;
there's a recurring overarching unified theme running through these days.
both sides against the middle,
and a ruptured valve, a leaky gasket, and a burst line are what we've got to show
for all the efforts of all parties involved.
ouch.
uh-huh.
duders,
i'm just sayin':
i heart you.
(and sometimes i werewolf you, but right now? it's <3 's)
but that won't stop me from sending out mixed signals in sweet nothing form:

ummmmm.
....yeah.
*
my ninjas, i've got good news!
arthur-making is still jumping around the Fortress,
and it's dovetailed flush with the light-colored heavy hearts,
and the dark skies and darker moods that make the magic happen.
i'm activating that small art.
for realsies.
check out the tiny-cut-up-paper-bits-type teleport:

awwwwwwww.
spurting and hurting,
an envious aching heart-breaker bleeding just for you.
and you.
and you, too.
yeah.
a heart-shaped dungeons&dragons nerd-monster.
y'know?
like, a beholder, with beauty in it's jealous green eyes?
i'm inclined to think so.
what's up, then?
you met me at a very strange time in my life, y'all.
*
and what do you ninjas know about applesauce?
no.
not the store-bought b!tchbaggery.
c'mon.
i'm talking about homemade stove-simmered,
hand-peeled, pared, and parboiled-
perfectly spiced and served with a cinnamon heart on top?
nothin'?
well, i can fix that.
check the teleport:

yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
i GOT they.
eat your heart out, neighbors.
except, in reverse.
i ate all around that sprankled-on sentiment, son.
i'm just like that.
holding on until i can't;
not letting go so much,
just losing my grip.
F*.
whatever, though-
my friends are still better than yours.
my expert new friend anna made me that delicious treat,
and i've been shoveling big, fat appley scooples of it right into my F*ing face.
and it's good, neighbors.
really damn good.
it won't last much longer, at this rate,
and i wasn't inclined towards sharing, anyway.
awwwwwwww.
-
...however,

i'm not exactly sleeping in the treats department either.
check the cakey-hot teleport:

mmmm-hmmmm.
heart-shaped cake, no frosting.
huh?
that's right.
it's heart cake you eat with sugared strawberries on top.
that's a thing.
strawberries are like little fruit hearts with ticks embedded all over them.
actually,
that's way gross.
nevermind.
i ruin things.
infinity never ends.
duh.
*
all the girls i are know are pretty,
all the dudes are dope.
all the words are loud,
all the interactive actions are fresh,
and all the styles, times, heads and hands, hearts and minds,
and each and every single one of my F*ing nights are ALL hard.
checks and balances,
in the wee spaces of overlap among the echoes and smoke rings.
i feel it pulsing like blood.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....