Placeholder: In a place where no one ever came close to dreaming about... a place from a foaming brain, there is a tiny ripple of truth that duplicates sanity to reality... existence of self-pity and triumph! This is a long gone dream in which only lost souls find mercy from a god of an insane creation! Blowing cold winds that come from an uneven breathing pattern warm the frigid core of the sun! Rotting brain from inside the brittle bone of an old branch impatiently waiting to outgrow the sky… You are lost In a place where no one ever came close to dreaming about... a place from a foaming brain, there is a tiny ripple of truth that duplicates sanity to reality... existence of self-pity and triumph! This is a long gone dream in which only lost souls find mercy from a god of an insane creation! Blowing cold winds that come from an uneven breathing pattern warm the frigid core of the sun! Rotting brain from inside the brittle bone of an old branch impatiently waiting to outgrow the sky… You are lost

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@generalpha

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In a place where no one ever came close to dreaming about... a place from a foaming brain, there is a tiny ripple of truth that duplicates sanity to reality... existence of self-pity and triumph! This is a long gone dream in which only lost souls find mercy from a god of an insane creation! Blowing cold winds that come from an uneven breathing pattern warm the frigid core of the sun! Rotting brain from inside the brittle bone of an old branch impatiently waiting to outgrow the sky… You are lost

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2 years ago

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SDXL

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7

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832 × 1248

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In a place where no one ever came close to dreaming about... a place from a foaming brain, there is a tiny ripple of truth that duplicates sanity to reality... existence of self-pity and triumph! This is a long gone dream in which only lost souls find mercy from a god of an insane creation! Blowing cold winds that come from an uneven breathing pattern warm the frigid core of the sun! Rotting brain from inside the brittle bone of an old branch impatiently waiting to outgrow the sky… You are lost
starting points, multiple origins, the music of empty space
In a desolate post-apocalyptic world, sepia women glide through swirling sand, their haunting grace echoing amidst destruction. Surrealism infuses my words as I delve into the minimalist setting, reflecting the bleak struggle for survival in a colorless, unforgiving landscape.
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, Revisit’st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous, and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we do?
[scifi, a woman] Who was I? Where was I?… The landscape was totally unknown to me, even my body was unfamiliar. What forces brought me here? I searched my mind for memories… There was something there, but it was too clouded… A name… I scanned the horizon. A distant structure rose out of the mists. As evening approached I came upon an enigmatic oasis with a fountain.
In the silence of static, secrets scream the loudest: The Signal's Warning
Oh life is bigger It's bigger than you And you are not me The lengths that I will go to The distance in your eyes Oh no I've said too much I set it up
Seemingly lastless, don't mean You can ask us Pushing down the relative Bringing out your higher self Think of the fine times, pushing Down the better few, instead of Bringing out the clues, to what the World and everything anger to, brace Yourself with the grace of ease I know this world ain't what it seems
the of take explore Amidst our we trip Let to fellow words So we through break this digital Cut In space forth and let spirits So beat hearts way words beatnik's here beatnik to on dive In called guide the muse hallucinations The this the digital it's electronic revolution beatniks the raise Oh poetic art within In place depths power electronic In digital and us my to us bold stage But fragments stray words beckons technology As our ascend find
certain
The line between reality and fiction blurs as the passenger becomes entangled in their own creations. They question their own sanity, unsure if they are the author or merely a character within their own twisted tales. The boundaries of time and space dissolve, leaving them adrift in a perpetual purgatory. But amidst the despair, a glimmer of hope flickers. A faint whisper that perhaps, just perhaps, they hold the power to rewrite their own destiny. With each passing story arc, they inch closer t
[art by kupka] Un coup de dés jamais n'abolira le hasard l’ultérieur démon immémorial ayant de contrées nulles induite le vieillard vers cette conjonction suprême avec la probabilité celui son ombre puérile caressée et polie et rendue et lavée assouplie par les ondes et soustraite aux durs os perdus entre les ais né d’un ébat la mer tentant par l’aïeul ou lui contre la mer une chance oiseuse fiançailles dont le voile d’illusion rejailli leur hantise ainsi que le fantôme d’un geste
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