thank you torb for making sure ian has to play more rounds when we're on our dying feet so he can taste his loss slowly coldly growing colder gag like a wave into earth ground dust as i blow away its closing in on me clutching grasping touch me nearer were off away stick flung out of mud its this punch in punch out day to day that keeps burying you under a rock cast from your own clay dripping along fingers close me clutch me throw me in a box and ship me off to some other puddle of water it slurps out of like a long wringing neck wrought in fine lace and discord feeling ounce upon ounce collapsing in sounds like a party casting two some other time possibly maybe on the other side it does sound you could use an ordered list of ice cream flavors is this what i taste like in the rain feeling drip drip drip spine like a dinosaur skeleton brought back to life but not long for this world worked to grind
