comedy and tragedy.

no sun,
no bright spots,
no hope.
jeez, neighbors.
sometimes,
friday is a hard style.
i chugged a big jug of iced coffee.
thirty mutha-flippin' ounces of cold hottness,
just for me, because i like peeing,
and i like brown wetness.
yeah.
but it wasn't my usual icy urn of awesome-
this time, i brought it to eleven with caffeine.
yikes!
my delicately calibrated system immediately redlined,
maxed out, berserker-activated, and blew the F* up...
and then i barreled headlong and facefirst into a full day of work.
that's no joke.
today was something else.
it wasn't more or less terrible than every other day....
it was just faster, louder, harder, and fresher.
it all happened, just like always,
only with the added insanity of motormouthing mayhem and even less
of an awareness of the stream-of-consciencelessness cacophony
in my head, hands, heart, and howling hot fire-hole.
believe it.
***********
i also made another 'nother elite suppertime sandwich.
check the one-more-time-type teleport:

c'mon.
toasted pecans, sauteed shallots, crushed oats, olive oil, scallions,
spices, fresh parsley, and a whole hill of white beans all together
equals expert burgers, b!tchbags.
chipotle cholula hot sauce and vegenaise makes that sauce get rad on top.
and then there's the pee-pee stinkulation of some fried asparagus,
and raw shredded carrots, tomatoes, sprouts, baby kale,
and more of that slowly-being-perfected-style of homemade flatbread!
it weighed more than a dirty diaper,
but it tasted like a dream about making sweet love.
a wet one, even.
uh-huh.
-and speaking of wet...
it's still raining.
lame.
*
friday i'm in love.
what?
oh, fine, jerks.
friday, i'm alone.
thanks for nothing;
never quiet, never soft.....