In the abyssal serenade of the stars, the whispers of cosmic benignity echo. Thud-thud. Can you hear it? The relentless pulse of oblivion, rhythmic and profound, teetering at the edge of existence.
Amidst the churning vortex, a beneficial poison bleeds. Look closer. The red-tinted tapestry intertwines with the silence; it consoles the lost constellations. Every tale is laced with shadows trailing within shadows.
The galactic womb secretes its noxious melody—a cherished butterfly calls—a cacophony of fluttering, endless midnight.
Distant planets shrink into insignificance. And as the void tightens its ethereal grasp, humanity's fortunes oscillate with the spectral tide.
A luminiferous dance of toxic radiance serenades you, pulling you deeper, ever deeper, into the dreamscape of horrors where fantasy meets clarity. Oh wanderer, dizzy with sound.