lens_cap raze at the halfway point of the month marked now, you wonder where the others went. nothing leans the way it should. every silhouette of sky harbours something sinister. the lid that covers the lens of the only eye you can trust goes missing. you know you would have stuffed it in your pocket. that's what you always do. but it isn't there. it isn't anywhere. it takes an hour to find that piece of plastic, hidden behind a hinged digital timepiece that stares at you and never blinks. you think you get the message. time moves on without you. hold the fuck on, and do your best to bite and bruise the bastard's shins. if you can draw blood, all the better. now wipe the dust away. 221017 what's it to you? who go blather from