In the shivering gloam of half-light, where drowsy spectres coil and uncoil, your heart finds itself a prisoner of hollow curiosities. Beyond the corporeal veil, an orchestra of morose shadows weaves the lament of forgotten fears and faceless horrors that awaken with each creak of midnight chimes.
Enveloping thoughts, like serpents entwined, constrict, squeezing moments of clarity into ephemeral whispers— truths blinking into existence only to be crushed beneath their tranquil, ferocious weight. The air here dances with sulfuric dreams awash in the moonlit bloom of enigmatic roses, writhing with the occluded sorrows of an unseen yesteryear. The sidewalk leads nowhere in particular; perhaps towards every echo, or none at all.