The Esoteric Khurch of the Perpetually Lachrymose
We are finding it difficult to be alive at the same time. A cycle of swirling eulogies ensues. In various ways we have died and continue to do so. An attempt to communicate with the deceased through desperation rock karaoke is minorly successful.
Bereavement has me staring at a rucksack full of melting bags of frozen spinach on my bedroom floor.
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