The monochrome thoughts meander like winter; bare trees clutching at nebulous dreams.
Chimeras cast in shadows, each ambiguity a lyrical dance upon the threshold of sanity.
Rain drops echo in corridors of silence—cast miles beyond the twilight.
The yellowed pages, marinated in unspoken lore, lead the curious to speak in reverse:
"I drink clouds of past regrets." and the tomes whisper, fading configurations, half-remembered mania.
Words dissolve into watertight vessels, patchwork quilts sewn from slumberous imaginings.