wet_snow raze this_is_how autumn ends and winter stirs from its unsteady slumber: not with anything so serious as a storm, but with the heaviness of heaven in a million shards of shaved ice that scatter and stick to me like honey stolen straight from the comb. 251109 ... rubydee sticks to the bottom of my shot glass as I try to wash away the sins of yesterday and fears of what I might do next. 251110 what's it to you? who go blather from