on_christmas_day raze there is no snow to decorate the dirt. sirens wail and whine like cold dogs, fenced in and afraid of what their eyes can't find. planes fail to fall from the sky, though i shoot them all with the firearm i've forged from my most faithful finger. we are made of water, you and i, and through the vast expanse of all we are, we swim to the boundless shore of each other's arms so we can sigh: this is what home feels like. 251225 what's it to you? who go blather from