deposited raze my mind has begun to place words in the mouths of strangers. they strain to speak what i want to be true. and_so a grey-haired ghost in a windbreaker no sane person would wear on a night this warm talks with a woman who's walking her dog, and i hear him promise: "we're gonna get fucking peace" though i know he's saying no_such_thing. 250620 what's it to you? who go blather from