it’s hot oh

a complex of failure

little saints ate beans
and jesus this body
is the whale

you’re inside me
you don’t want to be

it’s an oven
completely shut in
haunting me
it’s hot
oh my god it’s hot
i’m a hard heart

i’m a complex of failure

“The sun shone, having no alternative, on nothing new.”

—Samuel Beckett / Murphy

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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