⭐Just me⭐

And so we near the end once again..! The end of the year and the start of a new~! 

* reapers of woe who don't weep, step off - away from the major byways

spread your sour stuffing along side roads of soggy toasts & tippled toads hopping onto sad lily pads in staid seas stagnant & still.

we say goodbye to bad winds blowing bit by bit, byte by byte

daily and all through the nights of summer, winter - whenever - we've heard & seen enough of your bad tangerine dreams to know better.

whether or not we survive this shift-stormy weather

again tamping the tail-end of an amber-tanned day;

we'll take a quantified leap decide to protect our spirit and mind so you can no longer reap, so your tales of woe can wound us no mo;

& merrily we'll stroll to the end of our show, using our own sense ability, however uncommonly employed

* aspiring superheroes without the tights and capes, belying the fad sighings, trying on organic drapes focusing on content, trying hard to remain sane, symbolic addiction, anabolic fictions still out-tweak cocaine

there are seven certain cyphers i won’t use or amass, while the herd remains content with their grazing under glass.

* the pandering never ceases ‘til your pockets show linted creases 

though there are lucre’d leavings from those caught in traps set for fappers moral lapses and their waning mental maps.

'bi-focals' now buy local while thinking of global trusts, but scaling e-conomies won’t automatically ennoble us

without more human transfusion and branding sans insanity, algorithms without rhythm only fan our fabled vanity. 

* ‘twead verwy verwy quietwy’; when climbing use some stickum, just ‘cause you find folks down n’ out don’t mean you hafta kick ‘em.

so saddle up yer gripin’ son and ride your pony expressly, federales found bordered wallys, while i.r.s. was sniping wesley;

pawn that passport to adventure, cause you’re not the gaming kind, just you mind your manners, mon, while they gamely mine your mind

for that piece of paradise you lost while seeking naked truth,  that’s been steeping in a cauldron you’ve been shlepping since your youth.

* certainly - i'm quite familiar with the blues...

& the greens, the reds, yellows, oranges & the indigo...

so pray tell, why would i dwell on only one slice & not embrace all of the spectral feels?

* in the moment, momentarily 'til i drift into past times that carry me to visions of a future rife with fate-filled folly

& tho i love to be jolly, life demands - before it commands one to attention should you desire an extension of your whole-grain reign on this plain

gamely seeking a squeeze - main, to help the squalling feel like breezes calling me to unyoke my soul & behind from the pall before the fall of our kind ( in my mind... )

& just sit in my skin, as the endgame trends resurface again from the resident-in-grief's riff on morality's raft, never knowing if he's really fore or aft adrift from the firmament's heft he ignores & mocks

to the cleft where his fall from the wall with a flourish wouldn't find us shocked, as we'd be nourished by the grace we'd been gifted in that moment

but i'm not one to foment & run for cover as i purge here in rhyme, one mo' time