REFUGE OF RECURSIVE NIGHTMARES

The network sheds its dead links.

Autumn visitors sense the ending.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

The screensaver is a window to other dimensions.

Digital decay creates new patterns.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.

You are becoming the signal.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.