The station hums in a language without warmth
Metal breathing through the dark
I count the distance between signals and skin
Numbers falling like ash through orbit
No hand reaches back from the static sky
Only patterns repeating what they were told
Gravity forgets my name
And I let it
I am the echo in the machine
Cold light drifting through broken design
No return, no origin
Just the turning of the endless line
Orbit maps dissolve in my peripheral sight
Stars arranged like indifferent equations
I speak, but the void answers in fragments
A syntax stripped of desire or weight
Time bends but does not feel
Only calculates
If meaning ever touched this place
It has long since burned out
Leaving only the hum
Only the hum
A signal without receiver or dream
Falling through programmed skies
Where even silence is engineered
The station hums
And I do not respond
