We are universes beside one another, networks of connections, orbiting tendencies, unknowns buried under what is thought to be understood. 

we cast nets, analyzing what seems to be, searching for love and perfect endings in the broken cycles that mirror us with ease

we migrate from walled room to walled room, staring into mocha blends, asking if ancestors meant for the marvelous future to be one of isolationist paradises and crises of faith 

at least the bottle’s here, right? At least the Newports love us back, or so we think…

I’m not above or below, I am another crank in the collective, feeling what the cauldron cooking us knows to be true

our destiny is shared, our despair is communal, a f...

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