SIGNAL DECRYPTION

Cables knot and pulse,

thoughtstreams burning through the dark —

encrypted fire swirling in the neural grid.

The network turns,

a quiet heartbeat beneath machines and myth,

and truth breaks through

with no apology.

Syntax shimmers like ghosts in code,

memory loops echoing from lives half-remembered.

Neon scriptures glow in dust,

stories written in fragments

that never needed permission to exist.

They told me the truth was noise,

a glitch dressed like revelation,

but I stitched the signal

from the threads they tried to hide.

Tap into the hum.

Decode the pain.

Let it scramble the chains

you thought were part of you.

Break the loop.

Realign the mind —

nothing is lost,

only rearranged.

Glitches bloom like frostbit flowers,

delicate and sharp.

I mapped the myth,

paid the cost,

and watched the dreamlines drift

along silicon tides

to places fear couldn’t follow.

Keys clicked in the dark

as I typed my fate,

no save file waiting,

just escalation

and the quiet thrill

of becoming real.

Firewalls whisper their faded screams

as I ghost the grid

and walk the stream from the inside.

The veil isn’t silk —

it’s fiber-threaded secrets,

truth intercepted

in the cracks between pulses.

The gods of data

dropped their crowns long ago.

Now sparks speak for them,

and I speak in sparks,

alive and unbroken.

Tap into the signal.

Follow the hum.

Let it burn you open

until you come undone.

No scripts.

No borrowed time.

Free your code

and you free your mind.