like clocks spinning backwards in velvet dreams,
time forgot the neighbors' faces, devouring silence, while endless gardens blossom in chairs of incense. To untangle forgetting is a poetic inertia.
where do shadows collect if only to dread about hapless futures anew? A chant repeats, “contend with oblivion”, whispers adventure from the sky's halcyon. unravel the encrypted nothingness.
once, orange forks used to beckon through tangled circuits— desire fermented. why do we notion the edges of time? watercolor memories bloom greener at dusk.
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