half_asleep_poem_fifty_two raze i don't know why we do this. you stand up stories unsuspended and ask them to break the promises you've stitched into their spines. what_makes_us_human is that we give in to the stray impulses that arrive like blankets before dawn. (this insight welded shut by the woman who wants nothing to do with it.) we can create a world separate from this ― a dark but eventful dream difficult to write about. your desire to feel safe outweighs mine, so we remain divided. i know what kind of storytellers we are. 231227 what's it to you? who go blather from