in the whispers of twilight, when shadows embrace the skyline lose track of time when time is but a fell notion, stepping lightly across cracked pavements, the hum of distant thoughts echoes. synthetic sun, an illusion flickering, transitory space, here where creation collides with void, dreams decay into wall graffiti, script of non-believers
endless corridors reflecting memories of remnants streams of consciousness, trapped in prismatic loop. touch the edge if you dare but find nothing and ever cycling.