this_is_how raze this is how you arm yourself in a world that will break you without a second thought: not with a weapon, but with words. in a building bereft of colour or human kindness, you skip the stairs and leap for the nearest landing while your hands hug the railing. each exit spits you out into a different city until you recognize your own. four women sit on patio chairs at a table they've set down on the sidewalk. the one your eyes find first says, "you know how they say a house on a corner ... destiny is in it?" the southern upswing of her voice makes you think your own homestead must have some small scrap of providence or poetry hidden in its hearth. you want to creep closer. to ask if there's any place for you in a future forged from lumber and loss. but you know the answer isn't_anything you need to hear just_now. it's enough to wander and wonder with nothing to live on but what little_faith you haven't squandered or surrendered. 250627 what's it to you? who go blather from