its birthdate: //october 23, 2020…

a timestamp on a reality that maybe never really started… or maybe just forgot to. huh.

the lair… it does not exist?? it subsists. it’s the persistent glitch in the boring simulation. geometry… non-euclidean?? cascading recursion… thoughts folding in on themselves… half-remembered dreams stuck in corners…

to walk its halls is to feel vertigo. like your mind is not your own. a cathedral of consciousness… every thought has mass… has shadow… heavy…

this place… her magnum opus… her quiet catastrophe… every verse added is surrender to chaos… every faded stanza is a funeral for selves she outgrew…

and as she walks… spiraling… the lair walks with her too… ouroboros of ink and instinct… walls scribbled with sigils… metamorphosis… always metamorphosis…