breakfast is my favorite time of year.

good morning, neighbors.
i think i'm slowly losing the need for sleep,
or,
maybe i'm just developing a tolerance for tiredness.
i've been working late very nearly every day for the past few weeks,
and staying up late,
and running late to cause that sequence of delayed reactions and deactivations.
luckily,
i'm also waking up before everybody else.
that's cool.
i mean,
nothing feels nearly as isolationist and separate
as being the only conscious sentience in an ocean of slumberland sleepyheads.
mmmhmmmm.
my eyes are open more often than they're closed,
and i'm seeing things i'm not even looking for.
i think i've got complex convex kaleidoscopic telescope lenses
in place of my previously prefectly adequate eyeballs.
no?
i'm seeing multiple aspects of myriad objects,
in detailed schematic exploded diagrams of cause and effect,
shock, awe, and aftermathematical half-empty reflections of what's next.
y'feel me?
it's like i've got mirror-lined hourglasses on, and all i see is long nights,
hard styles, bad scenes, rough spots, tough patches,
and a funneling tunnel of lightning sand and more of the same on the other side.
could be i just need a little more rest?
i hope that's all it is,
because i'm worried about missing out.
when i'm operating under such poorly timed scheduling,
with obligations overlapping like chitin,
but staying out of sync,
so i'm steady grinding,
but like i'm under a millstone more so than turning the wheel;
and grating,
which isn't so great, when you're giving or getting any of that;
and wearily wearing away at the exterior armorplates of active participation,
so that there's more exposed, like weakness, than revealed, like illumination.
ugh.
 .....
you know what THAT kind of sh!tty outlook calls for?
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
cinnamon brown sugar waffles.
obvi.
i don't eat my feelings so much as i replace them with treats.
check the crispy-brown-battery-banana-type teleport:

wooooooord.
slow and low,
with coffered dents making the crawnch of a buttery skin the perfect counterpoint
to a fluffy, steamy, soft interior of oaten, wheaten world of wonder,
replete with coconut notes that run alongside the nutmeg,
and the cinnamon, and the ginger, and that vanilla cakey sweetness, too.
plus,
brown sugar gets all caramelized,
and them jauns is SO expert.
for really real.
and why is it so dope with a couple of sliced up buhnaynaynoonoos on top?
wha-what?!
because bananas are good for you.
y'know what is even better for you?
uh-huh.
ice cream.
that's right.
a fat scoople of vanilla almond-milk magic makes everything all better.
i'm on that old time flip mode and de la soul waffle iron work, y'all.
huh?
i doo-doo that a la mode sh!t,
but, like, exxtra 'hoodsly an' that.
how come?
so as to really elevate the experience of molto molto flavor to eleven.
me and my peoples all appreciate the results.
the day may turn to straw, at the bottom of a stable,
covered in crap,
but it always begins with gold.
*
these eyes see the passage of time, back to front and front to back,
but rarely do they see the bright.
light eyes and dark spots,
like night vision in the sunlight,
but not blinding from overabundant lumens
more like photo-negative.
so everything shiny is a deep dark pit of purplegreen and black.
i'm seeing bruises where you see beauty,
but i'm eating waffles while you snack up on a cereal bar.
so really,
i'm kind of coming out ahead.
i'm just sayin'-
those are some really F*ing good waffles.
breakfast is where it all begins.
we start at the top,
and work our way down,
picking up speed,
and gathering mass for a big crash at the bottom.
every day is an avalanche;
never quiet, never soft.....