hitch raze every grade school hallway is a waiting room stripped of its clothing. in this one, the dentist will not see you now. he's got his fingers in someone else's mouth. a man and a woman hoist up their hands outside. thumbs extended. it's hopeless trying to hitch a ride. the only things that still run around here are busses. and they won't stop for anyone. in the last room on the left, a surfeit of students flood the floor with their sleeping forms. there's a pen in every colour uncapped on your desk and nothing pure for any of them to bleed on. only you. 250505 what's it to you? who go blather from