too often?

can we really eat too many falafels?
no way.
but,
can we actually be eating falafels too often?
i don't think so.
then again,
i'm one hundred percent dedicated to werewolfen full moonified
battle-beastly overactive overindulgence in all the good things i can gather
together in my claws and my jaws,
relative to the law of gnaws.
hahahaha.
what i mean is-
i'm flippin' out all over the place,
and all i even care about is falafel every day,
in every way,
always and forever.
at least until the full moon's iron-rich rusty waves
stop crashing like a blood-filled tsunami inside my raging savage
stormswept gypsy heart.
damn.
in the meantime,
while i'm rolling deep in the riptide of this animal magnetism,
you KNOW i'm gettin' down with some saturday night falafel hottness.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
check the teleport:

c'mon.
the object is not to have just the biggest and the most beautifullest,
it is, now and forever, above all else: MORE.
teleport:

and MORE.
teleport:

and MORE.
lots and lots and lots of super-official expert turbo-hot elite falafel jauns.
wordimus prime.
that's the best way to make sure the fullest of moontimes is saturated
in tahini-laced temperance and well-suited wolfen skins.
uh-huh.
-
lycanthropic lunacy travels by red blooded bestial infinite nature.
i can't say i'm turning into an animal,.
but rather, that the base and basic instincts of a beast are dominant
in word and in deed, for the duration of a brightened night or three.
my pulse is the pathogen pathway for high-pressure hyperactive hunting;
and for the howling mad magic of a heart-pounding
hard-styled haranguing as well.
it's carried to the extreme in my extremities by all that thick red sanguinity.
no joke.
the blood is compulsory.
they're all blood you see.
anybody?
well,
anyway,
i'm silver-bulleted and billeted in my bedroom,
sated and soporated by that massive meal,
but never satisfied.
nope.
never that.
good enough is not enough,
and too much is the right amount.
you know how it goes;
never quiet, never soft.....