paws
raze i never knew hands
could be so wounded,
and so indifferent
to the pain of being
stripped of their purpose.

if my heart is a finger
of fire that fights to be felt
in this winter without end,
the feet my arms
saw fit to grow
when i was an inkblot
swimming in syrup
will be the last
of what i own
to turn to ash. 		240203
what's it to you?
who go 		blather
from