incipient raze so i was right the first time, and wrong when i talked myself out of the dark incipient thought i had. you did come here to die. not to overwinter. this morning you were on the carpet after falling from the wall. i didn't see it happen. no amount of urging on my part would make you move again. you weren't in some deep winter sleep. you were gone. i picked you up with a pink post-it note and placed you on my dresser beside a stack of eight books — two i love and six i haven't read yet. tomorrow i'll give you back to the same dirt that'll cover me someday. it's the least i can do. 231213 what's it to you? who go blather from