daybreak raze there's a thing the night does when it's already another day but morning hasn't shown its face yet. it isn't a sound. it isn't a thing you can see. it's something you feel under the balls of your feet. a weary sort of shuffling. if it had a voice, and if the voice could form words, it would say, "i'm no longer what i was, but i'm still something, goddamn you." your feet don't know that's what the shuffling means. so all you get is the feeling of having walked a few miles more than you should have, when you haven't moved at all. that's how the night starts telling lies to your body when it's lost enough blood to forget its own name. it doesn't mean to. it just can't help itself. 221003 what's it to you? who go blather from