scrape raze i scratched an itch that wasn't much of anything. that was the idea, anyway. i overshot the mark. my thumbnail made red what should have been the colour of me. whatever i am. whatever the outside of me is. when that calmed down, what was left in the place i failed to cut myself open looked like small flakes of dry skin. or dandruff. or snow. it didn't hurt until i let it feel what the sun did to my chair's left arm rest. that's one way to remind yourself to trim your nails. here's another: hold your hands up to the light and tell yourself you're not an eagle. 220703 what's it to you? who go blather from