beneath the whispers of forgotten radios, there is a humming, vibrations chiseling moments of silence into words that never reach their destination.
static speaks in tongues, translating silence into urgency, carving out your name into frequencies too fragile to hold.
i can hear you through the cracks of your voice, a million butterflies that should have been pigeons messaging in a language understood only by the softest echoes.
somewhere in the decay lies a promise, that beyond the humming of machines that wish to sleep, lies a world unrecognizable, untouched.