Fall as fuck
How many times have people tried to write about the Fall?
Idk man there’s just something infinitely better about Fall than any other season. It’s like, for a few weeks, nature just puts down her guard and let’s us know what the fuck she’s really made of.
There’s no more sparkle,
no more manicured lawns or
glossy summer lakes.
The polish of July wears off and autumn comes out raw and wild and fucking beautiful.
She comes out swingin, shakes the youth off her branches and breathes in, Hoka Hey. Her dying breaths are crisp and full, a twine of grime and grace. Father Time is a cruel bitch — she throws him a wink and a smile, and keeps on singing sweetly. Whistle in her wind makes the babies cry n the goth kids grin, the white girls have their Starbucks so it’ll all be okay.
It’ll all be okay.