scoured ovenbird I can’t stop worrying that I’ll shed a secret virus and prove that there’s poison seeping from my shaking palms. I want to believe that only kindness can ever pass between us, symbiotic sweetness laced with care. I hate the possibility of doing you harm. I make my edges as smooth as they can be so you won’t catch on the burrs that time hasn’t burnished. But I’m afraid of my capacity for inflicting unintentional pain. I can’t know what I’m harbouring under the skin I’ve scoured so clean. 260804 what's it to you? who go blather from