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"He had been told 'no' by many women, spanning decades of his awful existence. Stonefruit sour on the layer of flesh below his dermis; plum rotten to the core. Nothing about that boy was 'good' or 'free.' He was shackled to the depravity that he wore around as if skinwalking. Lycanthropy sh•t. Mutt-soled and impure with his snout in God's c•nt. Was the creator a woman? He hadn't lapped enough to find out if it was his spirituality or a Russian Telegram video."

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Discord: Ziau
Battle.net : Ziau#1885
Epic: 化. Ziau

"I early found Anacreon rhymes

Were almost passionate sometimes —

And by strange alchemy of brain

His pleasures always turn'd to pain —

His naivete to wild desire —

His wit to love — his wine to fire —

And so, being young and dipt in folly

I fell in love with melancholy."