resembled raze for months the wound i made in the wood of this moving wall resembled a squirrel with its paws parted, ready to take flight and feed me something only the segments of self that are hanging on by the thinnest of threads could taste. i should have taken a picture to preserve the poetry of that strange and necessary shape. i thought i could make it last. but this morning the need to scream without raising my voice ran through the cold butter of my body like a blade, and i let it defeat me. i laid into that lesion and made it as wide as i was able. now it doesn't look like anything at all. 260114 what's it to you? who go blather from