crumbling_youth knute i can't help but wonder why i've had these hours after a wide-eyed 3:33 awakening to observe your family like some oblivious documentarian watching the ground beneath your solid feet shake. your 17 year-old autistic son is now a toddler in your wife's arms and all of you are fresh as if life has washed you clean from faith, but your pink cheeks reveal something hidden slowly making its unwilling way to the surface like the imminence of death, a knowledge no one wants to know and that's why people believe, i'm thinking. 090524 what's it to you? who go blather from