The Inner Archive

Stone above and flesh below
Silent eyes against the glow
Columns rising cold and high
Cutting shadows through the sky

Every voice became the same
Swallowed by the weight and flame
Necks bent slowly toward the height
Human shapes reduced by light

The air grew heavy in the hall
As if the dark could crush us all

No throne waiting in the black
No voice ever answered back
Only space without an end
Only silence without friend

Bodies standing motionless
Breathing under emptiness
And somewhere in the endless stone
Every human heart felt small

The choir rose beneath the dome
Like distant ghosts without a home

Beneath the weight of awe
Watching meaning start to break
Beneath the weight of awe
Feeling human certainty shake

No comfort waiting in the vastness
No revelation left to find
Only human bodies standing still
Inside the pressure of the infinite

Stone remembered more than names
Years dissolved like ash and flames
Hands were raised then lost in time
Buried under dust and sky

Still the vastness never moved
Still no final truth was proved
And every generation there
Vanished slowly into air

Beneath the weight of awe
Still searching inside the silence
Still crushed beneath the size of existence
Still human under endless darkness

Chains against metal
Again and again

Yellow light bleeding
Through branches and rain

No seats on the swings
Only hanging steel
Moving in circles
Without anything real

Broken benches
Wet with moss

Glass in the grass
Bottles half lost

Young voices hidden
Beyond the trees
Smoke in the darkness
Carried by the breeze

The carousel leaning
One side below
Still slightly moving
Though nobody knows

The seesaw screaming
Rust in the frame

Paint peeling slowly
From forgotten shapes

Tall grass swallowing
The edges of play
Slowly erasing
What children once made

No footsteps now
No running sound
Only loose chains
Above empty ground

Only chain movement
Only distant heat
Only broken metal
Above soaked concrete

The swing set still moves
Night after night

Yellow sodium light
Burning through white

The swing set still moves
Alone in the dark

Holding the rhythm
Of a world falling apart

The rides stopped turning years ago
Rust replaced the painted glow
Tickets scattered in the rain
Nothing moving stays the same

Empty rails and broken lights
Cold machines beneath the night
Wind moves softly through the steel
Like old movement buried deep

The wheel still stands against the sky
Silent cabins hanging high
Colored signs now dark and worn
Waiting for another storm

The rides stopped

Metal shaking in the dark
Faded names and rusted sparks

Plastic horses never move
Still locked inside their silent loop
Empty booths and shattered glass
Summer swallowed by the past

Wind and rain across the ground
Every motion left behind

The rides stopped

The park still breathes
Without its lights

Metal sleeping in the rain
Waiting to move once again

The rides stopped

Voices beneath the static haze
Fragments surviving in damaged tape
Someone laughing somewhere behind
Buried in layers of magnetic lines

The sound bends thin against the grain
Words collapsing then forming again
Every rotation wearing them down
Ghosts of speech still turning around

A warped cassette left running alone
Repeating traces with nobody home
Half-spoken sentences drowned in decay
Pieces of memory slipping away

Static swallowing parts of the room
Soft electrical mechanical gloom
The tape continues hour after hour
Losing its shape but keeping its pulse

Voices stretched thin beneath the noise
Children and silence partially destroyed
Moments surviving only in strain
Bent through static again and again

The sound becomes unstable and slow
Dragging the weight of years below
Still something human fighting inside
Beneath distortion, beneath the divide

Nothing remains
Perfectly clear
Only the pressure
Of someone once here

Voices beneath static
Still trying to speak
Held inside failure
Mechanical and weak

Voices beneath static
Turning through night
Dying in fragments
But never fully silent

We sat beneath a ceiling without end
No wind entered
No voice descended
Still every head turned upward
As if something waited there

The oldest mouth began the sound
The others followed without question
A shape was built from repetition
Breath by breath
Word by word

No one saw it arrive
No one saw it leave

Children learned the silence first
Then learned which words belonged inside it
Tiny hands folded by instruction
Tiny eyes fixed above the empty stone

The room grew warm with human need
Names passed between generations
Until the air itself became authority

Imaginary friends
Standing just beyond the light
Imaginary friends
Fed by fear and wonder
Imaginary friends
Watching through a thousand eyes
Built from voices
Built from hunger
Built from us

Some fell to their knees from love
Some from terror
Some to belong to something greater than their blood
And in the center of the gathering
Silence sat like a throne

The walls remembered every whisper
Every plea
Every promise given to the dark above

Imaginary friends
Carried across the centuries
Imaginary friends
Born from the fear of being alone
Imaginary friends
Still breathing through our mouths
Invisible
Immortal
Unanswered

They spoke my name before i understood
They drew the lines before i learned the road
I learned to bow before i knew the weight
To fold my hands before i learned their shape

The walls were older than the lives inside
The silence sat beside us every night
And in the eyes that watched me growing up
I felt a meaning i could never touch

Some things arrive before the mind

I wore the words like clothing not my own
Repeated motions carved into the bone
No one described the fear beneath the calm
Still every gesture carried hidden weight

The table held the shadows of the past
The portraits watched like witnesses above
And every room already knew my shape
Before i ever thought to ask them why

Marked before understanding
Carried before choice
Taught to fear the silence
Taught to trust the voice

Some nights i thought the ceiling moved above
As if the dark itself could lean and listen
And though no hand was ever laid on mine
I felt directed by invisible lines

The years passed quietly through narrow rooms
The old words lingered longer than the living
And somewhere deep beneath my quiet thoughts
A child still waited for an explanation

Marked before understanding
Still carrying the weight
Still listening for meaning
Inside inherited silence

The hallway still lit beyond midnight air
Dust on the floor like it settled for years
Metal cabinets sleep beside the walls
Names once attached now absent from all

The ceiling light trembles pale and thin
Flickers again but never gives in
Every few seconds the brightness bends
Like something exhausted refusing to end

Boxes without names stacked into lines
Paper surviving where no one survives
Old ventilation repeating its drone
Making the building breathe on its own

The light above me shakes in white decay
Almost collapsing then holding its place
A dying machine continuing still
Long after purpose, long after will

Marks on the walls where pictures once stayed
Empty hooks bending under no weight
Office doors opened halfway through dark
Rooms full of silence archived in rows

No voice remains inside any room
Only the buzzing fluorescent gloom
The hallway stretches further ahead
Holding the shape of people now dead

The light never rests
The light never ends
It flickers like memory
Failing again

The hallway still lit
The hallway still lit
Long after meaning abandoned it

The hallway still lit
The hallway still lit
Trembling softly
But refusing to quit

Ash fell soft across the crowd
Grey against the waiting faces
Hands reached up through smoke and heat
Searching for a sign above

Old voices carried through the stone
Prayers older than the living
Names were thrown into the fire
One by one beneath the dark

The mountain never turned its face

Some brought gold
Some brought blood
Some brought every fear they had

The sky remained without expression
The earth continued breathing fire
And high above the burning edge
No presence answered back

The children slept against their mothers
While embers drifted through the night
And still the crowd remained below
Waiting for meaning in the smoke

The volcano does not answer
It watches without judgment
Without mercy
Without voice

The volcano does not answer
Still we raise our hands toward it
Still we beg the silence
To become a god

Morning came through ashen light
The mountain stood exactly as before
No promise written in the smoke
No truth hidden in the flame

Yet no one left the sacred ground
No one spoke against the silence
And somewhere deep beneath the fear
Hope continued breathing

The volcano does not answer
Still human voices rise below it
Still fires burn against the dark
Still we wait beneath the mountain

The pool without reflection waits
Rainwater gathering at the base
Faded blue beneath the green
Like something erased but still faintly seen

Leaves and chestnuts drift below
Resting where the water flowed
Broken ladders against the wall
No movement rising there at all

Cracked white tiles beneath the stains
Holding the memory of summer rain
Changing rooms with shattered doors
Silence soaked into the floors

The diving boards hang bent and cold
Rust spreading through the metal poles
Every echo inside the space
Feels trapped beneath the concrete gray

No reflection remains below
Only depth without a soul
Green still water without light
Breathing softly through the night

Something human lingers there
Inside the damp and stagnant air
Like every sound once left behind
Still circles somewhere out of sight

Nothing moves
Nothing speaks
Only the weight
Beneath my feet

The pool without reflection
Still holding the rain
Still swallowing echoes
Again and again

The pool without reflection
Cold empty and deep
Keeping the silence
It never could keep

The smell of time
Inside the hall

Medicine
Damp walls

Wheelchairs facing
Silent screens

Yellow light
Muted rooms

The clock still moves

Nobody speaks

Paper cups
Near the sink

Heavy curtains
Holding heat

Winter daylight
Fading weak

Eyes unfocused
Near the light

Looking somewhere
Past the night

A crooked cross
Above the bed

Tilting slowly
Overhead

Heavy air

Slow breathing

Television light

Nothing changes

The smell of time
Still fills the air

Silent rooms
Vacant stares

The smell of time
Never leaves

Inside the walls

Nothing leaves

Stars above wet stone
Lamp reflections across silent faces
Names carrying rain
Cold air between the graves

Rats moving softly through fallen leaves
Crossing paths no one follows now
No fear here
Only distance
Only night air

The wind keeps moving
Through the cypress trees
Dry branches whispering
Above the sleeping ground

Old photographs beneath glass
Watching through drops of water
Small lights trembling in red and gold
Against the dark

Nothing asks to be remembered
Nothing asks to return

Stone after stone
Name after name
The silence growing softer
With every step

Far beyond the cemetery walls
The world continues unseen
But here
Everything remains still

No voices beneath the stars
Only wind across the graves
Only faint lamp light
Across the rain

The final quiet
Without fear

The final quiet
Still here