webbed raze these two toes tell you things you aren't sure you want to know. second and third smallest soldiers in the right regiment. "it must be the nails," you say to no one, to the night. you trim them with your feet on a toilet_seat. first one. then the other. prodigal protein popping and curving away from you as soon as it's been cut. that doesn't quiet the voice you can't shake. hoarse purr from a place no words should be heard. see the digits begin to blend. feel your body called to crocodile its way through this wasted world. 260925 what's it to you? who go blather from