// experiment-i
A gold tribal backbeat burns the ocean circuit-grid. The world up and split, but we're still breathing. Above the hole in the mist, there's a screen featuring skin, cradled against gasoline and the sky that dwells in a sudden knowledge of stars: another Rapunzel's history, the ashes mine. She steels herself, searching the ground, time speeding up and slowing down, throbbing low and dry, racing staccato. Has she lost her voice? This song of skyscrapers and broken sea beneath, reflecting back amethyst pieces to sweep over her like an indigo force and burn away her neon smog. Tomorrow, a million million veiled, we are forgotten.
made by Vixen Phillips | foxtail @ protonmail . com | @subtransience@tiny.tilde.website | @foxtailrainbow