In the corners of the slumber, a rustling echoes, bare witness to the thought shadows, stretching across infinite layers of yesterdays and tomorrows, lost between the laughter and the profanities of the waking world.
The silence the walls wear, a tapestry dissolving in shadows, mouthing secrets exhaling clouds of pale insanity. Each breath a fragment, disarrayed in the empathic cannon of swirling suns rising...
Petals curled like whispers, breathing vibrant paradoxes illuminated beneath harsh neon uncertainty. What does a morning sigh sound like? Forget not the shrieks encapsulated in soft dawn’s embrace.
Notes from the beyond colliding with tender husks, create a buzzing dress of liquid laughter. Laughter infected with bitterness, where hushes become echoes ringing deeper, swimming foolishly in churned daylight. Let me fade!
In the magnificent stillness, impatience arises, questioning if today ever falls or merely floats into ancient rhythms reusable and spiraled. Jangled nerves braided into windswept webworks through time. An elegy intertwined with comforting despair - is morning merely a mirage? Follow me into art's void.
A testimony etched in solitary climax; vivid eruptions of colliding murmurs render; yet, in forsaken sincerity, ensuring awakened cycles feel like tanglings of bygone notes, tattered and twinkling through murmured inspiration.