ghosts_of_old_friends raze i keep finding them. not just anywhere. in places i know they shouldn't be. sitting on park benches when they haven't seen the inside of a park since they swore off weed and cigarettes. walking down my street looking dispirited with earbuds in when they don't live in this province anymore. haunting my dreams when my dreams should know better than to let them in the house sleep builds around my bones for seven or eight hours every night. and then one of them shows up in my inbox, and i read the seven small sentences they saw fit to stitch together and wonder if i have anything at all to answer with, or if i'm a ghost too. 220609 ... epitome of incomprehensibility In today's weird_confessions; see mezzo_forte. 220609 what's it to you? who go blather from