crawlspace raze the child in my care is not my own, though no one seems to believe me when i tell them we're bound by a different kind of blood. we need to get back to the room we were made in, where i once stared at a scotsman on a tv screen. he sat on a sound stage and played guitar. there was no audience to hear him sing about what he needed to survive. only a man standing unseen behind the camera that filmed him from the waist up. the aspect ratio was all wrong. still his sideways face made a knot in my mind. now two steel blades on wooden handles hang from hooks in a dimly lit diner. i hold one in my hands and the wall behind it opens its mouth to me. even on my hands and knees i can't make it through a space that small. i tell my sister to go_ahead without me. i'll catch up with her later, if i'm able. 240622 what's it to you? who go blather from