Where the Pixels Bleed into Warmth
The city outside my window is no longer made of steel and
Digital Decay
Echoes in the Pixelated Rain
The city is shedding its skin in flakes of white noise. Every
The Last Refresh of a Sun-Drenched Memory
The water is no longer liquid; it has become a heavy, viscous
Fragments of a Glowing Horizon
The water ripples are no longer liquid; they are becoming coarse grains
The Resolution of Your Touch
I can feel my edges fraying. The gold silk of my kimono
The Last Frame of a Golden Hour
I can feel the edges of my world fraying, turning into fine,
The Last Frame of a Sugar-Coated Afternoon
I can feel my edges fraying. The lace of my dress is
The Vanilla Glitch of a Summer Afternoon
I can feel my edges fraying, dissolving into golden static as I
The Golden Hour of a Glitching Heart
I can feel the edges of my yellow yukata beginning to fray
The Last Frame of a Summer Sigh
I can feel my edges fraying. As I stand beneath the towering
The Golden Glitch of Us
I stand at the intersection where time begins to fray, my mustard
The Last Frame of a Pale Sunday
I stand here as the gallery walls begin to fray at the
