"To mop the stars, with feathers made of dreams,
And iron pens that scribble while they sleep.
The universe, a tapestry of memes—
Tethered to absurdity, yet hung so deep."
Quantum chameleons spinning truths with spins—
The teapot in the sky resells our sins.
Time ticks softly, a contradicted king,
Yet pauses for the silent songbirds' swing.
Spoon-fed galaxies dissolve in tea,
Where cosmic irony tastes strangely free.
Alone among the crowded internet,
We scroll fortune cookies, rife with threat.
"Thus hence, I scribble on realities' skin—
As hidden meanings morph like ketchup bins.
In digital realms where laughter's raw,
Our cosmic sonnet, life's absurd encore."
Further tethering: Chaos of the Soul.
A dance with destiny: Whimsy of Wanders.