MANIFOLD from Night's Fissure by SOFIA RETA

I'm burning seconds
while doing the crosswords
I felt exposed, outworn, solid-cold
All black zen
A crushing, wilting breast and
i'm a thousand calendars around your neck
A shame bed that you lie in
At the right time
Stepping into
The right line
Acussed of the right crime
You could learn me like a language dead and gone
A torture to the tongue and to the song
Swing the cymbals where they belong
And now the rising tones begun
The tobacco field that I found you at
Warped by yellow heat and beetle mouths
Green wood and falling horizon smoke
On foot, these walls draw a tomb

Her right hand fell
Cradle the iron fist
Strike the centre wood
To knock out the beech bough
Knock out the single pitch

• Experimental
• dark wave
• electronic
• pop
• synthpop
• techno
• New York