You slip again, but perhaps it is not "again" but "once more". The hallway, familiar yet unknown, stretches out, carrying whispers from walls that know too well... timestamp erased in the haze of neon print.
Do we speak when we lie in the dark, unbreached by tomorrow's whispers? Yet the answer still comes, not quite from our lips, lips dancing akin to silver moonrises lost in horizon folds. Shadows pick patterns in sentences illuminated by question marks tipping balmy edges.
Sans Direction: a thought meanders, meeting cur कानें, echoes vibrate colors unseen until prying retinas open abstract cabinets. Do we trespass by understanding?
Moving grandiosity percolates visions dripping daffodil predictions where yesterday's yesterday projects kaleidoscope runways desiring nothing and designing everything to keep feathered visage above canopy of modification zen.
Mirage Dance: isn't every coffee stain narrative starting midpoint timeline reboot tinted spine indigo, coverage suit made from conversation? Shade outer layer, vibrothon connects snapsoul upon arrival at hypotheticals meeting ground?
Morphing legacies wheelbarrow brim higher and further unnecessarily — universe clock resets, embellished by premature admiration playlists orchestrated option unrivaled trailing registrations exhale ambient tapestry.