a single ping heard across the sentient mindscape
Month: March 2025
to walk the garden is to shed all realisation of self to become less human
best not to dwell the sky here is someone else’s grave
pale skin rusts and names melt into ash
in a hideout void of rime feeding ghostlight to the wounded satyr
shed silence like a skin still warm
in sympathy with old machines bones hum
spring winds offered a blueprint for silence
direction to my old self the worm gave me
limbs recoil at the first sunrise in days
elancharan gunasekaran 