Move over pumpkins

you know who you are. you're the wormy oozing mess i scooped off the porch with a garbage bag. you're sprawled all over my fireplace in a fuzzed-out cotton blend. you're on the back of every boy and girl in town, except the changeover is now in sight, and something deeper seems to be on the horizon. you're stuck in groccery store clearance zones for two dollars off. it's over between us.