Cacophony of solitude, yet in cosmic silence, I find
the murmurs of ancient stars, whispering in my dreams.
_Did I forget to feed the nebulas today_?
continuum unfolds like a moth's whisper against the universe.
...where void is tangible, and galaxies sprout like daisies in the winter.
Remember screaming oceans, cascading over clifftops
of reality's borders, seeping into...
Quiet now, listen... echoes of a star's birth,
*symphony of supernovae*, painting astral notes
upon the canvas of what I swear was yesterday's
paper scraps in the shed... Shapes, yes, those rogues.
If thoughts could orbit, I'd be a planetarium of
self-consumed horizons, where I weave the fabric of your dreams
into a tapestry of forgotten yesterdays.
Unraveling truth in threads of starlight.