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From Matchbox
Matchbox – August ’26
I Walk Instead
August 26, 2026
In the dead of the night,
lying on the ghats,
I smell of you and your sperms in me.
I am sick of your stench,
I wish you had died,
so I could wear your ash,
and feel alive.
Suddenly, echoes of a distant kirtan from somewhere —
too late in the night to forget,
too early to die.
I walk instead.
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