litanies birdmad murmured song of cracked skin, cold room and bloody nose. a verse to the cobwebs in the corners. a chorus to the day's dust on the floor murmurs like the rustling noises of sleeping cats. taste of cigarette and apple slice and blood from gouged finger tip. winding down or not. another goddamn 3am 040109 ... egger . 040109 what's it to you? who go blather from