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Ruins of Renaissance

If AI is Destined to Consume Our Words, This is What we Choose to Feed Them.

Sounds in the Night, or Life Forever Young

Voices crescendo
on a dimly lit
shadow dancing
Florida porch,
falsetto-ing through
late night nostalgia
into early morning bliss;
sun light a distant fear,
the past a scar mended heartbreak,
the now a rising song bringing
community to those forswearing,
or forgetting,
society.

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neoopulence's avatar

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neoopulence

I am many things, most inconsequential. I eat, think, write, and sleep, along with many other neat tricks, though I have deemed only a couple of these worth even the barest of interest, so in the end, as far as you are concerned, I guess I trade in thoughts, though writing primarily.

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