Moonlit Obsidian

Have you ever walked alone through empty halls? The walls play a symphony of shadows. Soft echoes bounce, and the thoughts hover, just like the fleeting visions of dame fortunes unrevealed...

It hits you—like something doesn't want to be remembered, yet you can't shake it.
Where are the old chairs that creak sighs, and the windows lined with silence? Do you hear that?
Every crevice whispers at twilight, every moment slips through your fingers like grains of black sand.
Explore the dark, the stomps of your heart shape a long-forgotten melody coiling in the corners of awareness.

What if the man who sold you stars back in ‘86 is still wandering these moonlit paths? Can I borrow your dream tonight? They say every streetlight’s a guardian. Potatoes of the cosmos, unnoticed nuggets of forgotten hopes, lurking in dim tones. Captured angels slight against the verses of resignation—do you still remember where you, 'once hoped‘? Suspended in the sway of night.
As you wander deeper into the phantom maze, flashbacks dance restlessly, twirling ghosts of what-might-have-been. And here, under the cosmic spotlight— moonshadow lmnt, crawling as stars do toward the endless embrace.

Strangulation of the very fabric of memory tickled by the gentle caress of lilac air brushes against your cheek. The old trees featured guests, ain’t that the truth? When all you can do is hope for clinks of jet night to yield lively moments again. Turn down that hallway, quiet yourself, and listen; whispers hold world-spinning secrets.
Shouldn't shadows carry glucose drips, needed to function when dusk breaks like sugarcoated eggshells? "Nostalgia?" it tests. "Who dances? Not guilty." Twilight releases sigh laughter as it presses against your self—the peculiar way we exist now. Memory equations seem exotic, never adding up.