substance raze i wake from nothing, i wake into nothing, and between the two nothings is the vague idea that hope is made of this, this feathery white that flutters in the sky-space like slow confetti after a soul has, in defiance, bombed itself out of decrepitude and into the hard light of knowing, where every pried-open pore leaks secrets and lies. 150109 what's it to you? who go blather from