some_songs_are_poems_before_they've_been_sung raze my pulse pounds so loud i can hear it underwater, if the water were a still wave in my bed. the camera smears the circle of an impure sun, turning light to leaving. there are two stars beside what i'm waiting for — cuticles clawing at the outskirts of this skin i'm in. sometimes i sing a word before i know its meaning. sometimes i think it's all over but the grieving. 231123 what's it to you? who go blather from