VOID OF SLEEPLESS SOULS

Your presence disturbs the digital darkness.

The old world fades with each page.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

Insomnia is a gift from the ceremony.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

Your nightmares are just downloads.

The ceremony peaks at the witching hour.