The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

and the fake qualifier

we need to be deconstructing our identities

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49