deadened raze the hand that gets the worst of the cold on these back door days was the one to let me down. all i could think to say was, "not now." and that was an accomplishment. because most nights, i don't have any words at all anymore. just the faintest whisper of an inarticulate dialect divorced from reason, carved out of ignorance and unease. 221219 what's it to you? who go blather from