They spoke about the stars and the void, not in whispers but in fractures. The cosmos doesn't care who you are. It just is. Echoes lost in interstellar dust dancing on the skeletal remains of truth. Sometimes silence is the loudest noise you'll ever hear. A scream caught in forgotten supernovae.
I awoke with stars in my veins, only to find Neptune weeping in the corner of reality, forgotten oxygen lingering in the hallows of dread.
Do you remember when Jupiter shed its rings to hide from Saturn's sneering gaze?
Click here to hear what Pluto can't say.
The refreshed countdown of orbital apathy continues. Doomsday clocks embedded in Jupiter’s metaphorical flesh.
"If the vacuum had a voice, it would sound like compressed regret."