alibi tender_square i don't clog the cloud with recordings of my comings and goings. after they're deleted, there's no way to get those moving pictures back of my eyes, laser-like and searching in the blue dark. last night, i arrived home an hour before midnight. it was eerily quiet above and outside. i had anticipated a continuance of edgy muttering and music playing, of smoke and petulance. in the morning, he was dressed head to toe in white, blending with the dusty dandelions as he sat against a tree in the boulevard. by afternoon, he had changed completely into black leather, embodying the duality of dark and light with whiplash. he's been steadily inebriated under the influence of narcotics for days. before bed, i feared he had died in his sleep. the neighbourhood was swallowed up in silence that mirrored the strangeness. without those pictures, how could i prove i wasn't here when he expired? it is known to others and to law enforcement that i do not get along with this man, that i want him gone. i have a key to his apartment. what if, what if, what if, my thoughts cycled behind closed eyes until i exhausted myself to sleep. 230513 what's it to you? who go blather from