ascent raze this dog climbs trees. thin overcoat. brown like the last meal that came out of me. like what blood does after it clots and dries and fails to find an alibi. the only colour any leather worker worth their salt wants to see. i watch it trample what i couldn't save if i wanted to. and i want to. i do. such a fragile thing in my coiled fist. tiny chest-docked metronome. brisk breath warming one worn shoulder. body stiff and lost to sleep without end by the time i get where i'm going. some things you can't outrun. and this is one. 230126 what's it to you? who go blather from