air_conditioner raze so this is you now: cracked and jaded, with shrunken lungs that have little left to give. i study your guts and wince. my eyes follow a network of corroded copper coils. i can travel south to your filthy filter, or north to your black teeth and the impoverished plastic circlets of your ears. a single zip tie keeps the braided wire of your small intestine from collapsing. bilingual warnings bruise your left side. the colourless gas you spilled the day before this one is an apparition. i have to press my face against your screen door to find it. for ten years you were tasked with making three rooms bearable when you were only built to service one. i don't know how you ever kept me comfortable at all. 220808 what's it to you? who go blather from