What is dusk but a twisted grinning mask of the day undone, shadows sigh and gargle with laughter the kind that churns stomachs and unseals seams in reality's fragile casing. Listen close, for the abyss murmurs, secrets caressed by fading golden rays yet cloaked in autumn's chill embrace. Have you tasted the velvet whispers of forgotten chandeliers swinging in ghostly parlors?
Webs spun by haste and lingered with spider innocence, the clock ticks backward and forward all at once. Did you hear the thunderous silence as frogs declare wars on solitude's kingdom? Splashes of crimson adorn the mind's eye, staining all thought with potions brewed from electric moonbeams. Wrong places, right times—they kiss each other in dark alleyways painted with lose-win symphonies.
Seek refuge in pathless horizons or drown dreams in forgotten melodies. Shadows weave stories parables of lampshade solitude, categories without a home.