The media tells us: consume! Repeat! Life is a wax-flavored chew, endlessly revisited yet never satisfying.
Chasing echoes down the corridors of irony, we find clocks melted and dreams delivered in hastily rewritten scripts.
Once upon a rumor, amidst the noise of resounding silence, aspirations wore their old charade. Behind cheap stage curtains, a grand hallucination called the puppet master. Yet the marionette whispered her truth, for the first time and perhaps the last, amidst cobwebs hung like finely woven sonnets.