dimming raze i saw a lantern-like length of wood where i was sure none had been before. i knew who put it there. and it boiled my blood. that a man could be so bereft of anything resembling a life, he'd resort to altering the edges of a home that isn't even his. but that supposed anomaly has been here for all the sixteen years i've lived in this house. and who knows how long it stood before that. this is what eight months of interminable sleep deprivation will do to you. every day there's a little less of me left. i don't know if i can ever get back all i've lost. maybe when i'm dead. 230602 what's it to you? who go blather from