careworn raze i reconstruct a cordillera of dust with a cloth that's already stained from overuse. let me breathe in what i can't see. let it clog my pores. i apologize with my eyes to the leaf i wounded four nights ago when i wasn't as graceful as i like to pretend i am. i scrub out piss stains and soap scum with expired bleach. i dump twenty-eight empty plastic bottles into a blue box in the basement. i drag a cotton ball across the contours of my face. i grab a pair of black jeans from a closet full of clothes i haven't worn since high_school and find they somehow still fit me. i am who i've always been — a little cleaner, a little more careworn, but still the same halfhearted cynic stealing hope from paper_dreams. 220323 what's it to you? who go blather from