mood_swing_t_shirt raze three years ago, my favourite shirt from the batch you bought me to fit my scaled-down frame was the colour of brightest blood. now it's the faded hue of fuel that strains to keep a mangled machine from breaking down. when too much rain smacks into my camera's steel and thermoplastic body, the microphone loses its reach, whittling away at the timbre of my voice until there's nothing left but a bit of mud in the margins. keep breathing long enough, and everything you touch and all that touches you starts to sound like it's speaking the language of loss. 240112 what's it to you? who go blather from