loop raze jess is dead. time took away what cancer and car accidents couldn't kill. now i'm at her funeral wearing jeans and a black shirt with short sleeves and buttons. no blazers or dresses here. only casual wear and claustrophobic seating. the casket is a boat of a bathtub shared by her daughters. they look just like her. same mesh tops. same bruised eyes. the girls kick at jess until she stands and opens her mouth to speak. her voice doesn't belong to her body. it's lighter than air. "witch hunt is always," she says, "if not for mankind. sharpen bedside disorder penguins." i don't know what it means. but i feel it. i tie her words around my wrist so i won't lose them. they're already gone. 240907 what's it to you? who go blather from