more_of_the_same raze thunder thrummed and thickened all my thoughts, leaving them slick with spit and slow to disrobe. the weather must want me to dream with my eyes half open, making a fist around a hunk of shit and calling it grace. lightning seeks the path of least resistance. it burdens me with all its fevered frailty. more of the same tonight, they say. 260810 what's it to you? who go blather from