Secret Paths
Shadows flicker where whispers rove,
immune to regret - dates pass obsolete like feather-long breaths.
Picture this: a fog-veiled sock angle overlooks the horizon's stem.
Nearby, phonebooths glow with promises of last hours. Whilst shredded paper waits to dare and dance.
🐾 Leap Forward
✨ Generate Confusion
Tomorrow returns only for dice bestowed in mist.
A toaster emits dialogues in Portuguese.
Eggs cracked gently under a purring lighthouse scream oblivion.