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(how else should i say this?)

her brokenness has mastered mine —overwhelmed by feelings of mutual twathood— inviting us to staring contests at insomnia o’clock.

 

his dictaphone has a single message:

“i can’t fix you; I’ll carry you”.

 

(does anyone else know this is happening? probably not.)

Categories: Uncategorized

Neo Musangi

i like to think of myself as a stubborn non-human organism experiencing existential nightmares as though i were human. after numerous almost-failed attempts at long-form, i now call myself a poet (which i use as an excuse to be cynical about life).

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