basement_blathing raze when no place is safe thanks to the unending ineptitude of thoughtless neighbours who can never let anything just be, and you've been robbed of the right to relax in your own home, this is a thing you can do. on your way to what passes for a living room, you might find an unhinged safety pin yawning its indifference, and an unexplained stone four steps from a mattress you've never slept on. the floor of bonded aggregate and fluid cement is licked with flames from the flood now seven years in the rear_view_mirror. there's a box for a bedside table and an unloved bar of soap in the bathroom. wild grass and weeds waver in the wind on the other side of the only window that shows you anything. a sliver of wood stabs the pad of one white sock and won't let go. the only way out is through. 240618 what's it to you? who go blather from