Father, partner, nerd.

Cider & Soda

This man believed as second chairs do That love can be moved once the folio Is closed and the rests have entered cloture Toward him hanging by the neck Until divorce or clarity take him from this place As drafts are first and no more Than ideas before the end of midships Sunken in their own misguided cheer Between infantry and command There can only be to and fro, together Is asking for a direction you used to know And that these syllables in condominium Are a house simply and unequally divide...
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Timeliness We have lost you and what previously stretched from the Sun to the Void is now a long-held questioning of the tears appearing to threaten every bit of solace ahead of defaulting on borrowed humanity. How can we approach the sacrament when the blessing has been torn from our midst? There are no monsters, there are no answers, and there certainly will never be any doffing of these new, ever-present depressive vestments; from white-labeled missed opportunities to dance together up th...
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It can be the mark of what was once great, the bulwark of clutching at what shall fall away, or three phases of loss: Such are the having, forgetting, and embracing of bitterest loves. There are no creeping monsters atop the spread of hindsight and regret, no eagles molting what should have never been; the first condition is simplest and human conditions are bequests toward none more banal than sin. ...
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