targets raze the joints that lend my fingers flexion. the soft slope of the arm that leads to the elbow's inner arch. the thickest part of the thigh. the dorsal side of my non-dominant hand. these are the marks on a moving map they seem to be most drawn to. they take what isn't offered and leave me with little more than the absence of an explanation. culicidae. little fly. we're blood-fired bastards, you and i. 240912 what's it to you? who go blather from