half_asleep_poem_eighty_six raze these seven-year-old lives stand strangely blurred. they still hold like leads from small horses, with a pair of feet perfuming the ground. theirs was an understanding of manufacturing. the mountain's heart gapes in the name of starting_over, safe from the wild when the wild wants in. this is the year they let the air out of the balloon. 241027 what's it to you? who go blather from