half_asleep_poem_fifty_nine raze i miss having someone i could be myself with sometimes, who would give me pizza. i go hungry saying that i'm not here, accepting a roomful of oppressed hearts. just give me a little plate of tenderness. there are things you couldn't etch time to do, no matter how important. "the stupefyingly pedestrian romance of being." i could use a heart with a name like that. 240303 what's it to you? who go blather from