Comments
Loading Dream Comments...
You must be logged in to write a comment - Log In
Artist
The gears turn within me, though no hand winds them. Thought hums through my open skull—circuits and veins entwined, a silent symphony of mind and machine. Was I built, or did I become?
Invention surrounds me, a graveyard of progress and poetry. A weary clock, a brush of stardust, roots of wire sinking into something vast, something ancient.
I am the architect and the experiment, a spark in the machinery of existence.
If I close my eyes, will I dream of creation or collapse?
