it's summer all the way now,
and the moon is pulling all the iron in my blood to the surface.
i can feel it in my pulse, every heartbeat is the clanking crash
of the wreckers and crushers in a scrapyard.
there's rust on my tongue, molten ore in my veins,
and a wildly magnetic throbbing i can hear between my ears.
the furnace in my chest is fully operational,
and all the hot fires are lit and raging within the cast cages of
muscle, and the galvanized conduits of my aortas and ventricles.
you'd think that was almost a bad thing.
no way, neighbors.
i've got the heat-tempered high-tensile low carbon cauterization
of glowing red-hot steel being molded and folded inside me.
that's a thing.
the spring supermoon is getting closer,
and the lunatic pull of opposing poles is totally and fully in effect.
werewolfen wildman waldengeist jauns are what's poppin' over here.
the woodsly goodness is operating under the auspices of all-natural activation,
and a confluence of congregational aggregates composed completely
of spirit and memory is coalescing into something kind of expert.
summertime and a full moon?
if you're not ready, you'd better get ready already,
because it's all really happening, even now.
flipping out all over the place?
...and there's something to be said for friends, too.
we'll have to see about that last one.
those extra fertilizers i spread,
as well as the soil-enriching acidifiers i applied have made 'em dope.
big beautiful bountiful blooms are the way to improve every garden, no?
you know it's true.
that's the whole flippin' point, i think.
i doo-doo that dump sh!t, duders.
that's just the way it is.
summertime solo dinner jammers for my face?
check the fan-tail freshness-type teleport:
i deserve to enjoy the profits of my labors.
i've earned each and every bite of those b!tches,
and i'm taking down huge quantities every time i set to it.
assailing the senses with fancy foods, and intensive immersion
in all of that active participation in pursuit of my own well-being.
i probably will turn into a big fat dumpling before too long.
at least i'll be full of delicious bits of nourishing goodness.
that's optimism, right?
sure it is.
it's just another 'nother saturday in the woodsly goodness.
that mean more of all the same things there always are-
but this time,
there's also that lunar transgravitational overlap
of concentric and concentrated atmospheric auras.
the orbits of orbs and the circuits of circles
are one hundred percent of the reason why today goes to eleven.
speaking solely for myself?
i couldn't be any happier about that.
summer is fully functional, and fresh to death,
if you aren't casting away the casing of soft sad sorry skin you carry,
and letting the wild animal feeding-frenzy-type berserker inside you
abruptly erupt and corrupt your better judgement today,
i'm pretty sure you're not doing it right;
never quiet, never soft.....