the system.

and then,
panniecakes.
yeah.
i love 'em,
and i may have been a little distracted by circles in the sky,
and forgotten about buying bread for toast in the mornings.
so,
this is what happens when breakfast needs making, anyway-
check the flat-flapjack-type teleport:

good morning.
standard issue, single flour, straight-up pan-style cakes.
yeah.
that's it.
once in a great while,
the original throwback version is nice to munch up on in the a.m.
i mean it.
i was going to eat a single slice of toast...
instead,
i'm four fluffy griddleb!tches deep into breakfast times.
yum.
being too involved in worrisome, wearying werewolfen nights
made for a molto masculine lumberjackin' monday morning.
that's expert.
***********
once the day begins,
it rushes way out ahead of me until i fall asleep chasing after it.
really, neighbors.
i get pretty beat up playing catch up all dang day long.
i've got pots bubbling,
and pans frying until i leave for work,
and then i come home and do that again,
with a whole lot of performance piece monologue jauns in between,
and a lot of bloody hole-poking to pay my way through the thickets
and thinning patches of this hairy hot mess of a life i'm livin'.
uh-huh.
not every day is a well-composed essay on excellence.
sometimes,
like today,
it's a heavy heap of hotcakes,
and a heavier heap of hands and hearts prepping
for a big ol' pile of work.
that's what warrior poets do best, duders-
work.
toil and trouble are where i'm at;
never quiet, never soft.....