stump raze you were dead on your feet for weeks before you fell. diminished, but not gone. the other day they cut down what was left of you and ground your stump to sawdust, leaving your roots to starve. that way they could get paid twice for a job that should have been done in an afternoon and didn't need doing in the first place. they'll deceive themselves into thinking they've erased you, but you're still alive in the memories of the animals and insects that found shelter and nourishment in your craters and curves, and in the angry soup i call my soul. there's a little less oxygen in this city without you, but as long as i'm still breathing some part of you will be burrowed in me. and i don't plan on closing up shop for a good long while. 220410 what's it to you? who go blather from