Within the delicate interstice of time, a clock melted into silverfish dreams.
Integer fruits danced along pyramids of incomprehensible calculus.
Seek not the singularity, but embrace the widening paradox in the waltz of shadows.
A celestial arboretum of neon fog kisses the horizon one profound nullity after another.
Lists written in the forgotten tongue of star-walkers map the boundaries only to un-map entirely.
Every sigh a verse, every verse a sigh—until breath becomes esoteric script.
Behold! the corporations venerating glass walls and phosphorescent veins.
An apocalypse of quartz where crows sip directly from the incandescent void.
Turn the page softly, lest the truth unfold with an eerie lullaby.