Reality Flickers
Sleep forgot her long before the tea went cold.
Journal Entry
2:10:59 a.m.
I find myself surrounded by Creatures who share the same Invisible Weight.
Each Night I stumble back — a Traveler of my own Exhaustion and Shadowplay — part of the House, its Invisible Clock.
Odd, though, I tell myself, it all begins to make sense.
The Walls breathe with Secrets whispered on my Sleeplessness — and I, in turn, am beginning to belong to it.
Each Night I stumble back — a Traveler of my own Exhaustion and Shadowplay — part of the House, its Invisible Clock.
Odd, though, I tell myself, it all begins to make sense.
The Walls breathe with Secrets whispered on my Sleeplessness — and I, in turn, am beginning to belong to it.
Dreams taste of rust and sugar here.
Journal Entry
3:04 a.m.
The House shifts again.
Its Walls inhale, exhale — like lungs stitched from Paper and Sighs.
The Mirrors no longer reflect me; they remember me instead.
I walk past them carefully, afraid to wake the Versions of myself still trapped inside.
The Girl in the Shadow Gown hums a lullaby backward, and I almost recognize the Tune.
Outside, the Moon tilts, spilling its Light like ink across the Floorboards.
Sleep stands at the Threshold, watching but never entering.
I whisper to it — Not yet.
Somewhere between the Tick and the Breath, I realize I am no longer the Visitor here — I am part of the Architecture.
Its Walls inhale, exhale — like lungs stitched from Paper and Sighs.
The Mirrors no longer reflect me; they remember me instead.
I walk past them carefully, afraid to wake the Versions of myself still trapped inside.
The Girl in the Shadow Gown hums a lullaby backward, and I almost recognize the Tune.
Outside, the Moon tilts, spilling its Light like ink across the Floorboards.
Sleep stands at the Threshold, watching but never entering.
I whisper to it — Not yet.
Somewhere between the Tick and the Breath, I realize I am no longer the Visitor here — I am part of the Architecture.