fourteen_steps raze for sixteen years i slid down the stairs that lead from my bedroom to the heart of this house like a child still learning how to walk. a psychic scar made by the home invasion that left me lying face-down on the floor, waiting to die. for three weeks in my fourth year of being here, i was able to push past the fear of falling. that artificial courage lasted as long as the love i thought i'd stumbled into. then it was gone, and i was on my ass again. a week or so ago, i followed my father around the bend that's broken my brain so many times before. and for the first time in forever, i found the nerve to navigate those carpet-covered planks of wood without sitting down. 240730 what's it to you? who go blather from