penultimate raze this day was not built to bless the likes of us. but it's you i see when it shows up to shake me with unwanted fireworks displays and the wasted wailing of charmless children in bloated adult bodies. strange. because there's so little of you to look at in my memory. i must have had more pictures before. time has taken all but one of them from me: you at your desk, eating. the same lunch every day. nutella spread between two slices of plain white bread. your last name a gun with an extra letter hidden behind the hammer to mitigate the menace. and something like serenity at play on your young face. would you know me if we met again so far from who we used to be? or would we only be smiling strangers searching for sweetness in the acrid kick of our slow corrosion? 260518 what's it to you? who go blather from