even_after raze this is where i used to be hours after everyone else was asleep. looking over my shoulder even after locking the door behind me. stepping into a stall shower as narrow as a phone booth to rule out the possibility of some strange someone standing on the other side of the frosted glass. kneading a bead of liquid soap into a wet washcloth that smelled like rotting flesh. all the fear i was made to feel compressed into a room almost too small to hold me. and this is where you go to slow the thoughts that will not stop stomping on the unfinished floor of your skull. 241101 what's it to you? who go blather from