As dusk settles, shadows grow long on the walls of solitude. In the mirror's embrace, I become a mere outline, an echo stumbling through the viscid embrace of yesterday's whispers. Where do these paths diverge, stretching between the threads of memories unsown, unraveling under their own macabre gravity?
Once vibrant tales whispered through these tempered glass obelisks, stories caressing the dim corners of the mind's vast expanse, now merely known as figments. What of those cascading voices? Left unclaimed, they spiral in entropy's soft embrace, veiling mysteries in layers of decay that taste of ash and time undone.
Caverns of Imminent Loss Fractured Echoes