bulwark raze i need the insistent squeaking of steel springs in my mattress to remind me there are wild things everywhere. make each swerve and swoon beneath the masked moon a warning or a well-worn wish. a nervous rodent gnaws on the thin gauze that guards my most meaningful muscle, and i'm made to understand what i'm hearing is the sound of my teeth tearing through the wall of my own midline. there_are_no_words to tell you how it tastes. 260328 what's it to you? who go blather from