street_sweeper raze the sound that sent me straight to hell wasn't a gun screaming its guts out or the last ragged breath of someone i loved. it was a whining box on wheels designed to rid the road of dirt and debris. what my eyes couldn't find formed a fissure in my mind. after my hands failed me and the water ran dry, i sang for my soul to a god who'd already abandoned me. i crooned and growled and bartered until my throat was bruised and burning from being made to carry all i stood to lose. when i was sure i was going to die, the light changed. the metronome behind my sternum went on keeping time. still, all these years later, i can feel its pace quicken when i hear spinning brushes and a diesel engine darkening the day before it's had a chance to put on weight. 251009 what's it to you? who go blather from