cracking raze the fabric that swore it would protect me made a blade out of a black plastic square and cut a slit in the translucent protein that calls itself a thumbnail. the more it snags on hair and thermal socks and thick towels and anything else willing to dance with it for a while, the deeper and longer the fissure grows. the only pain i felt came at the moment of unwitting impact. the cells that live beneath the parts i prune to guard against worse wounds than this are dead, after all. like half of everything else that's attached to me. 221119 what's it to you? who go blather from