prayers_for_rain birdmad marking time beneath dusty skies and thhunderheads that flash dry lightning stormclouds making promises that they don't intend to keep the wind breathes on the backs of our necks like a tease 030609 ... lotuseater they call it drought season, i call it the great hell. the demon sun god sends its firey light down to bake and crust and burn away all that are beneath. the surface of this sweltering pit of a planet is peeled away, like dead skin on the back of your neck. can you feel the worms dying? can you feel me under you skin writhing? 030610 what's it to you? who go blather from