chances_are raze i took a picture of my broken front_door standing on its side. i don't know why i did that. now its cracks and chasms gather rain while some ancient beast groans and slouches into solitude. too sweet to be bitter. too bitter to be sweet. you can call it thunder. i'll call it something_else. the sky isn't half as dark as i want it to be. by the time it shows me a star worth wishing on, chances are i'll be giving all my hope to something that doesn't exist anymore. pray that some soft-bodied beetle takes hold of what i've cast out into the void and finds a use for it. 220516 what's it to you? who go blather from