demolished_building cooper rasha The world is a sorry business. We sleep uneasily, and when we manage we grind our teeth. The slowest erosion begins inside out: the plum and atom, the fossil, the mammoth inner clamor. The wrecking ball swings back around. Plaster lands like a telegram from another planet: I will keep falling until they knock me down. 130129 what's it to you? who go blather from