invisible indivisible.

a full moon and a snow day?
c'mon.
this is IT.
anything can happen,
and anything awful is much more likely to be on the menu.
winter werewolfen berserker barbarian battle beastly no-sleep freak-out
savage snow-stormswept raging gypsy tidal waves,
wroth with wrought rays of hot fire spit and lightning-striking viking vitriol.
yikes.
so many words.
sorry, neighbors,
but it's verbose and morose prose gettin' typed up today.
here:

that's as good as it's gonna get this morning.
mmhmm.
because i am fairly sure i'm an ultra-electromagnetic lodestone
for cultivated coincidences of the first and worst order,
each time the moon fills up with light,
and the nighttimes seem to circle around in a whirlwind of wails and howls,
high pitched and double-bass-boosted,
i can't really help but sense and surmise that maybe,
defying the force of free flippin' will and active participation,
i'm really only given the luxury of reactions,
and when i'm truly determined to manifest my own destiny,
a helluva lotta loud, fresh, and super-hard-styled overreactions.
y'know?
yeah.
when it's all really happening, with or without you,
and you aren't making moves or magic to catalyze any of it?
that's when the superstitious suspicions set in.
curses and cures, neighbors,
werewolfen anthropomorphic bestial best-case scenarios.
that's what's up.
shovel in one hand, slush on my boots,
dripping from  my nose and eyeholes,
sweating from my pores,
steaming and screaming from out of my big mouth,
and shedding at an alarming rate off the top of my head-
that might even be the best thing that happens under the grey clouds,
and maybe those billowy blankets will suffocate, or at least diffuse,
some of the silver slivers of lunatic light that are hiding out of sight,
and on my mind, as the pale day promises to deepen and darken
into the depths of a frigid and fraught evening.
-
sometimes,
circumstances overlap in concentric spiraling circles,
ghost rings and smoke rings of spirit and memory.
those coincidences we cultivate go on to propagate and proliferate
like prodigiously prosperous profligate invasive entities-
operating under the prime directive-
too much is the right amount:
the object is MORE of all of it.
hard styles, cold bones, grit teeth, heavy heads, loooong nights.
all of it, interbreeding with the success of hybrid vigor.
that's natural selection doing what it does best,
on a lycanthropic ley-line timeline of infinite nature and finite resources.
i mean, c'mon.
a snow day means anything can happen,
a full moon means nothing good will.
nature wins, either way, every time;
never quiet, never soft.....