Your eyes are still open, but someone else is using them.
The ceiling is lower each time you breathe.
Don’t tell him yet, he’s listening too closely.
In nomine tenebris, aperite portas inferni.
Every word you hear is spoken backwards inside your skull.

The sound of your footsteps arrives before your feet move.
Why is she laughing, she promised to stay quiet.
The keys are rattling in your pocket.
Daemonium voco, sanguis sit pactum.
You have no pocket.

We should stop talking, he’s starting to notice.
They are heavier now.
The whisper says your name.
Ad noctem aeternam, veni.
You cannot drop them.

Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t touch the door.
It is not your name.
He won’t believe you if you say that out loud.
Invoco abyssum, da mihi vires.
She told me to switch places with you, didn’t she?

It sounds clearer when you stop listening.
The door ahead is behind you.
Lux perit, umbra regnat.
It disappears when you try to hold it.
The door behind you is inside your chest.

You are standing still.
The corridor moves instead.
She’s writing over your thoughts while you sleep.
Silentium fractum, daemon surgit.
Stop repeating me, I was the one who said it first.

Did you just blink?
The blink lasted longer than your memory.
They want you to think this is the first time.
Anima tua mihi traditur.
Don’t trust her, she’s already wearing your face.

You opened your eyes ten minutes ago.
The hallway is still waiting for you to finish.
The echo arrives first, the voice follows after.
Clavis inferni nunc aperitur.
She’s talking now, but it isn’t with her mouth.

The words return in fragments.
You are… not… here… yet.
Their whisper tells you it was yours.
He’s behind you even when you turn around.
And now you don’t know which one of us is speaking.

Hallucination Corridor

How many days have you been here?
Can you be sure?
When was the last time you ate?
Are you certain it wasn’t only a dream?
What color is the room—do you even remember?
Or are you just inventing something to answer?
How long since you last heard your own voice?
Do you know if it would still sound like you?
When you blink, does it change anything?
Why are you blinking at all?
Is the silence outside, or inside your head?
Do you know if you’re sitting, standing, or floating?
When did your body stop belonging to you?
Do your hands still feel attached?
Or are they only memories now?
Are you sure these questions are mine, and not yours?
What if you’ve already answered them—again and again—without noticing?
Does time move forward here, or only in circles?
Why can’t you count past three without losing track?
What do you see when you try to picture light?
Is it brighter, or is it just emptier?
Do you trust the last thought you had, or did it arrive too late?
Why are you certain the walls are still here?
What if there never were any walls at all?



Sensory Deprivation

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

I use every tool available, human or machine, as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

New tracks tagged #Halloween Sound Design