The Alabaster Pulse in an Iron City
I am but a porcelain doll animated by the rhythmic hum of
ethereal beauty
The Gravity of a Morning Sunbeam
I have drifted through the neon constellations of this city for years,
The Sanctuary of Silken Light
I awoke not to the chime of a digital clock, but to
The Saltwater Slumber of a Concrete Heart
I had forgotten the language of tides, lost in a city where
The Architecture of a Sunbeam’s Touch
I often wonder if I am merely a projection cast by the
The Lavender Frequency of a Sun-Drenched Noon
I am not sure where the water ends and my memory begins.
The Clockwork Pulse of an Emerald Summer
I am but a fragile porcelain doll cast into this neon labyrinth,
The Altar at the Edge of Tomorrow
They tell us that our city is governed by the Council of
The Luminescence of a Single Breath
I have spent my life studying how light travels through voids—how
The Fragile Geometry of Us
I stand against the glass, my skin humming with the residual heat
The Gilded Solitude of an Amber Noon
I have traded the chrome pulse of Neo-Tokyo for this cathedral of
The Ascension of a Lavender Breath
I stand where the city’s concrete pulse fades into the river&
