Gradient gravity grasps glass gates, generating gaunt ghosts. Snowflakes embrace my bones in the afternoon, as a magnolia ladder protrudes forward behind my back. Reveries climb the tangible thoughts of hipbones and tiptoe through the doors of reality, imprinting my narrow hips at twelve o’clock. Gravity oscillates between its desire to become free and its burden to remain. Winter ghosts inherit my brittle bones, as shadows surround the trepidation trembling inside my heart. Silence engulfs my fleeting essence and consumes the fickle flames. I feel lost under the layers of denial but ethereal as I twirl around at three o’clock. Such loud noise lingers in the atmosphere while your wistful whispers walk around the silhouettes of my soul. Thoughts vacillate between finding the answers in the palm of my hand and searching for questions derived from incognito. Argent vines intertwine around my tiny wrists and ankles at six o’clock, chaining me to the confines of insanity. You pluck each heartstring and compose a cadaverous melody, waiting for the right time to play your lovely lullaby, but it is a quarter past nine, and time unfolds again in a counterclockwise direction. A negative sound wave returns from nostalgia’s grasp and prompts you to amplify your sentient song, singing me to sleep when I want to be alive.