half_asleep_poem_eighty_three raze the care around my forearms makes them vulnerable to filmmaker's famine. i see myself in nancy's eyes. i see a river in her tears. things aren't explained in her book. they only are what they were. she may be an insect, but she's got an ego with an income. and within the forest, my empty fears battle. they'll probably leave the sky to be with me tonight. 241014 what's it to you? who go blather from