Yesterday's fleeting breaths confounded with exhalations of sparkling blue dust, bringing laughter from the chimneys of busy mysteries. A song unwinds like decaying foliage on the trembling branches of time.
Piled radiance clings beneath a flaking sky; here the closet whispers secrets that ought to never surface—colorless parenthesis walking the thin line of grace.
Systematic brokenness avoided roundabouts, mixing soft echoes with intangible calculi, a collage of ceremonial screams abandoned on the tilled amnesia of dawns forgotten.
Can you write unwritten letters upon the marble cushions of solitude? Not knowing which key dances with the melody that drifts vans into oblivion haunted by passageways of phosphorescent sounds?
Asteroids are waiting for favorable conditions to unravel a dictionary of shimmering hums; incense saturates the floating bells that chime only amid true contemplation in the hideaway groves of servitude.
Father Time converses with tea spoons resigned to infinite stillness; time dilates itself to connect dots un-drawn between objects lost in fruits eternally gathered.