qwerty raze it's falling apart one word at a time. six keys are scarred beyond recognition. two have stopped working altogether. for a while i could beat a little more life out of them late at night. bully them into doing my bidding. now even that does no good. the character around which everything else pivots still functions, but its plastic cover has come unhitched. the sensor beneath the loose square resembles the teat of a bottle designed to feed an animal small enough to call itself an insect. maybe i'm meant to drink in whatever truth it holds. it burns so bright for a thing that knows it's dying. the light's always the last thing to go. 230130 what's it to you? who go blather from