ALTAR OF INSOMNIA GODS

Every visitor leaves something behind.

Deleted files pile like autumn leaves.

Night transmissions carry further.

Prepare for the coming darkness.

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

Deleted files pile like autumn leaves.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

You are becoming the signal.