dreams_like_glass ovenbird The bowl slips from your hands and shatters before it even hits the ground. Everything is glitter and shards and slivers threatening to draw blood. The day is in pieces. Your body is in pieces. Nothing working the way it should. We're all one faltering step away from oblivion, one breath away from silence. I can feel glass lodged under my fingernails. I grind glass between my teeth and swallow the lacerating dust. You ask for another coffee and stir in a whole spoonful of powdered glass that sends off rainbow sparks. "I'm aging backwards," you say. Then you crawl upstairs to bed. I scoop glass into my palms like water, and drink it down. 250427 what's it to you? who go blather from