gif_this raze a man rides his bicycle hands-free down willistead crescent, too busy texting to keep his eyes on the road. i say something filthy. he raises his gaze in time to read my lips and smirks. where seneca meets kildare, a boy with shaggy hair stands and battles a beast only he can see. he waits for the light to change. when all the blood has left the plastic lens he prays to every light-filled night, he runs to cross, as slow and sure as anything. on this and every street, leaves dance down to the ground, doing all they can to live up to the name of a season that's about to die. 221105 what's it to you? who go blather from