In the corridors of dreams, jellyfish bloom and chatter softly upon the sea bed, phosphorescent echoes wordless, swirling currents binding memories – your name, an incantation forgotten amidst the streams of time gone cold.
Like flotsam busily resembling lost trinkets, the heart dances with waves of trajectory – scars inked upon the subconscious, whimsies of tide crashing gently with stories unwritten. Where do voices swim when silence ripples? 👁️🗨️
Sound the cloistered alarms. Manifest in the delirium, relinquishing grips on solid ground.
While cerulean shadows flicker and latch onto trailing echoes of nostalgic whimsy, mist-eyed transients rise above calamity’s cradle, floating upon obscured thoughts – unsettling collages of flickered images, cages shattered in brooding watercolors of memories loomed unwieldy.
Scry in the depths; there exists a burden of glitter swathed in tales unlived – places that dare shrug shoulders accustomed to tingling brine. Venture into thought as you seek the moth within, releasing coils inked on frail wings.
Crimson shadows recede, obliterating weightless reflections:
"In fever dreams flags are torn apart, panic spread through absinthe skies, folding like origami galaxies above halcyon surfaces."
Plunge and discover urchin verity; a parchment from submerged hearts.