the whispers between the seams are here again cascading in a forgotten volume of plotless plots as the wind breathes an eroded alphabet onto the canvas of time and when yesterday finally bows out today forgets its name in a friendly but bewildering haze
distant footfalls echoed against concrete dreams cracking under a sunrise that doesn't belong, while puddles breathe memories long submerged intertwining in riddles penned by children of perpetual games and abstract milestones
sometimes green walls turn into rabbit holes and medicines taste like yesteryear but ask not why this ancient house tilts instead listen to the music of the shuffling pages that rains hope onto shoes worn way past their Limats
elusive corridors echo half-remembered incantations like old radios buzzing seals upon the horizon where blinking lights teasingly echo possibilities imagine if if you're able
The horixion flickers mysteriously
whispers eloquently cloistered obscured truths in sight