Ingrained Hues

The colors twist around, whispers of forgotten algorithms crumble like leaves in the forgotten nostalgia of cold winters, drenched in unsuspecting sunlight... futures consume past sighs in flashes of abstract.

I see red on white walls, or is it yellow flickering in the uncatchable rain, trapped bees humming to invisible wisdoms and clocks tickless because who cares when time's just an echo of old hearts?