red_is_a_slow_colour raze a new shirt came in the mail yesterday, its synthetic skin dyed the same shade of red as this. today i stand staring at my chest and wait for words to arrive. if i'm ever not here anymore, it probably means one of the planes that flies so low i can almost feel it breathing has made good on the threat it's too stubborn to speak, and i'm as dead as the hope i had before disaster sank its meat hooks into me and dampened my desire to see. in the meantime (the cruelest time i think i've known), this is the colour i clothe myself in. i'll undress to confess all my favourite sins. 260611 what's it to you? who go blather from