deflated tender_square i'm identifying too closely with those polyester puddles, limp on lawns, joy evaporating. my skin is backstitched tight, pulling where the wind takes me. these walks are either punishment or parole, i haven't decided. sobs catch in my chest for the way things were and the way they'll never be again. if it only were as easy as flipping a switch and being filled, however artificially. 221213 what's it to you? who go blather from