the last scraps.

well,
that's that then.
huh?
oh.
well, it's here, already.
beauty and burden in the same precipitous precipitation,
and this propitious powdercoat has been both
dreaded and anticipated for weeks now.
check the teleport:

yeah, neighbors-
this is the weather we all knew was coming.
and it got here before i could get done with all that needed doing, too.
awwwwww.
the last sticks of firewood,
the last pass across the yard,
to collect those late-fall oak leaves that seem to linger on the trees forever.
the season caught up quicker,
my pace proved insufficient to stay ahead of it.
big surprise, kids-
nature wins,
and all my slow and steady work towards winter is
now a last mad dash to the finish line.
that's what happens when you aren't going to eleven all the time.
lesson learned.
***********
dwelling and dwelling in my dwelling?
i doo-doo that inhabiting and mulling in a house-type sh!t.
mmhmm.
the Fortress is empty,
save for all the thoughts swirling over my head like
one of those cartoon rainclouds.
yeah.
black moods and white snow and hard F*ing styles.
there're ghosts in my memories,
there're demons in my past,
there're devils advocating on both my shoulders,
and they're all haunted houseguests keeping me company this morning.
jeez.
what to do?
i dunno.
maybe i just a little bit try harder to loosen the strangler's grip
my monstrous hands have on the spirits of seasons past, i suppose.
but that's always easier said than done.
letting go is easy,
it's forgetting that seems impossible.
the labyrinth of my memory is full of one-way-mirrored oubliettes,
tiny pockets and cells of secreted-away but see-through small walls
full of all the things the rest of us try to bury down deep, y'know?
oubliette means 'a little forget'.....
and don't i wish.
they say those who don't remember the past are doomed to repeat it,
but maybe those of us who can't remove the superimposed afterimages
of overlapped times and time-agains are just as doomed...
to relive it contemporaneously?
i'm just sayin',
it's like watching three drafts of the same play being performed
side by side by side,
so the otherwise subtle shifts in dialogue and staging,
are all noticeable all at once.
...and then go ahead and try NOT to rewrite a final draft,
flawless and fluid, built on the base of those foiled folios.
yikes.
you should try it sometime.
it really sucks all the balls.
that's real life, when you're doing it my way-
and it's all really happening-
all at once, and in a row, and back and forth,
forever;
never quiet, never soft.....