grape raze too many ants have wended their way into the discoid dent where the umbilical cord passed notes from your mother to you when you were baking in her belly. you could have been born backwards — strangled on the vine, or broken by the soft maze of my moist mouth. this is the ending the day has dealt. i roll you over and wait for you to be devoured. 230812 what's it to you? who go blather from