indian_summer raze fragments of faith flicker in my peripheral vision. i can see what i love watching me in the dark. each inanimate object bent by exhaustion into an act of uncertain devotion. the warped stem of something wounded hooks itself around cross-linked polyethylene and tries to find its way back home. your hands got us this far. let my breath take care of the rest. i'm not ready for the snow i know is on its way to flatten out all the colours we've crafted from sweat and spit and unhatched dreams. i want to swallow what warmth there still is. feel it cook me from the inside out. 221130 what's it to you? who go blather from