half_asleep_poem_forty_eight raze there needs to exist a prayer for us. there's still a poem troubled by razor-sharp twins. there's nothing to be aligned except for the lines between the lines — somebody's transient beauties. hosed of you, they are exercises, cheated but not created. illuminate me with the flame you carry amid the harsh winter return. we fell in love when we saved each other's lives. 230730 what's it to you? who go blather from