heel raze i keep thinking it's saturday, when this leaving song is three steps removed from the last of those days, and four paces behind the next one we'll see. i still can't shake it — the feeling of an ending arriving before i've made myself awake enough to absorb it. the rain has darkened the dirt and all that nests within it, denting everything but me. i press a slender square of cotton to the fleece beneath my right heel, soaking up the tears that fell from an unlit sky's tired eyes. it's all over now but for the bleeding. 230613 what's it to you? who go blather from