In the binary shade
where echoes lose their voice,
a 335xrayphoenix watches.
The threads of forgotten crochet patterns weep softly into the digital void where marbles of eternal afternoon roll endlessly.
Wanderers found caressing Spirospirits:
Interstellar spasms, enigmatic laws
as feathers align in chaos.
Shouldn't the echo of the last floppydance sing,
or should not it then relent?
The antiquity of silicon shadows
talks backward under seawater verbs:
uppercase collides with lost letters
The forgotten x-rays consume:
the pattern laughs
deep within electrons' hearts.
Goodnight bruise.carriage served