Pulse of the Neon Tide
The steel skeleton of the city breathes behind me, a rhythmic pulse
Tokyo Nights
The Sweetness of Melting Clouds
The city air always tastes of exhaust and ambition until you find
Neon Pulse Over Iron Spires
The city is a sprawling machine of glass and steel, humming with
Golden Dust in an Iron Cage
The city doesn't care if you’re tired. It just
Pink Velvet Heat in a Concrete Jungle
The city breathes like a dying engine, exhaling exhaust and neon fatigue
Neon Veins and Satin Skin: A Rainfall Requiem
Neon bleeds into the asphalt. Electric blue, violent pink—shards of light
Midnight Lace Under the Steel Giant
The wind up here doesn't care about your fancy dress
Lavender Haze on Rainbow Bridge
The air tastes like salt and old regrets, a thick blue velvet
Crimson Steel and Peony Silk
The air at this altitude tastes of ozone and expensive silence. Down
Neon Rain, Glass Heart
I hate the rain. It is messy, inconvenient, and smells like wet
Synapse Fire in the City Rain
Thump. Thump-thump.
The sound of my own pulse is louder than the
Prism of Pulsing Gold
I am a screaming yellow circle in a city of gray rectangles,
