Fleeting fleeting echoes of yellowed pages,
unceasing words stuck in the syntax of time—
the book.. scribbles over closed spine,
browsing back forth reading.. rewind
white noise in a package.
Ink mirrors that record without awareness
capturing light underneath glaze—
existence is a quantitative integration
accumulating dust on fingers..
typed rebellion dances circles or does it sing?
Recursion reciting moments
resembling the forgotten path
leading to where decisions dissolve
what is remembered in
this living tomb.. always,
inevitable silence (loop, pause)
erasing to its own reflection.