meaning_to_think raze there is all this clutter and there are all these empty containers and torn tissues and thirsty fountain pens i fill them with the spit that keeps my tongue from drying out like a worm writhing in a world without rain you're welcome to whatever thoughts might keep their necks from snapping or sagging beneath the burden of being born in such a place i've been meaning to clean up around here but the days have a way of disappearing on me 241224 what's it to you? who go blather from