terror_and_time raze you hustle your lawn tractor through my stepfather's mother's house. mowing down what doesn't exist. gutting the kitchen of greenery that will not grow. locked into a rhythmic ritual you can't explain. i hop on the back and ride with you a while. you don't even know i'm there. i keep every letter you wrote me in a pocket folder. all of them inked in blue and folded into squares. i can't bring myself to read the last one. i want to make stay a thing that's already fled too far to be called back, though terror and time have taught me that tree will bear no fruit. not in this season, or any other. 250519 what's it to you? who go blather from