song_for_night raze the man eats his pillowcase while his wife slithers across cold sheets speaking in tongues. these people are not your parents. leave this place. go out into the gloaming. bring something warm to wear. don't stand at the river's edge and ask to be carried away by the current. follow your father and brother. walk until you find your mother's grave. stare at the letters etched into the granite that lies flat above the box that holds what's left of her. quartz and feldspar flushed the same soft pink as her wedding band. don't tell her anything she doesn't already know. just say hello. 260728 what's it to you? who go blather from