the_one_book_we'll_ever_know raze we spoke in aphorisms and sunglasses. a former article of faith screamed a seam in a rapid succession of trust. did you ever leave the bullets left to raisin in the rain? i'm convinced at first we are immigrants. we're just divers. opinions change and thicken. this is our curse. there are no dreams in the bag of days — only portions of a piecemeal past, spineless and bible black. 250408 what's it to you? who go blather from