BASILICA OF BROKEN LINKS

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

The old world fades with each page.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

The task manager cannot end this process.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

Sleep is the first gateway.

Error messages are love letters from the void.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

Prophecies fulfill themselves.