thoughts unfurl, secrets unwrap, galaxies whisper, existence bleeds into the aching void, nebula dreams, hopping between yesterday-lost and tomorrow-most faint echoes—always there, shifting shadows, soft dripping cosmic tears on feathered wings, slipping through my fingers…
am I the background to the noise, a reflection on some unkempt mirror, rust, lace, an unfinished verse, scattered phrases fall like autumn leaves: “one must not presume…” as the stars curse the earth, grinning machinists with fractured glass for eyes, unittestable.
and dreams turn tangible over distant hills where fear sidles, bathed in the sinuous glow of inverted bubbles, undulations of color run over the skin of reality, defacing it softly murmuring, “forward, I drift into the memory of forgotten closures…”