eraser raze i've never written a thing on paper down here. so how you wound up on the basement floor wedged between the dryer and the washing_machine is a mystery to me. you are pumice and polyvinyl chloride carved into the shape of a heart. no ferule to fit you to the end of a word-weaving wand. only the fugitive stain of plan-proof possibility to blight your salmon skin. you hold a second heart in your hearth. a muscle from which you cannot be unmoored. i brush the dirt from your backside and sniff the sulphur that fortifies your soul. i cradle you in the palm of my surest hand and feel the open fist of your face begin to pulse. this is the only music worth making or moving to. i know that now. 260309 what's it to you? who go blather from