spatial confessions

{soft creeping tape hiss} [A heavy,

rubbery bassline slides down the scale—slow and hypnotic] [Fragments of 8-bit chiptune

glitch like a skipping CD] [Suddenly,

a dead-quiet room atmosphere: a chair creaks,

a soft, trembling exhale] (Whispered,

intimate, raw) Vou-va... Zan-lo-ma...

The code

is leaking into reality.

Kry.

{rapid fire delivery, rhythmic double-time trap feel} Je démantèle la peur,

layer by gear, un bug dans leur système,

Le vide n'est pas froid,

c'est juste la place pour mon poème.

I’m running the scripts to clear the cache of their diagnosis,

T'sais, j’suis pas un dysfonctionnement,

j’suis une métamorphose. 'Right' and 'write',

I’m logging the night,

je redessine le contour,

Finding the sovereign light,

hiding in the middle of the tour.

Anál nathrach, orth' bháis's bethad,

I’m claiming the throne,

The girl in the room is the architect of the unknown.

{massive drop, high intensity emo-trap} For the good of all,

the

shadow breaks, A lighter step for the path we take.

ZAN... perimeter set, the frequency glows,

KRY...

shatter the static, as the current flows.

Tiguidou... the glitch is a garden,

blooming in chrome, I’m the architect finding the road back to the

Sovereign

home. Vou-va... the rhythm is sacred,

the silence is wide,

A-lo-ma... keeping the truth in the turn of the tide.

{melodic bedroom pop confession,

halftime groove} Rule one-hundred-sixty: 4K perception,

I’m taking the bow,

If I’m the bug in the frame,

I’m the one who’s winning now.

Pas besoin de perfection,

juste une honnêteté brute,

I’m silencing the crowd,

I’m ending the pursuit.

'Main' and the 'lane',

yeah, we’re staying in the zone,

Building up a kingdom out of copper cords and bone.

Functional? No. Real? Always the deal.

I’m breaking the grid with the way that I feel.

{heartbeat bass pulse, minimal instrumentation} Inhale A...

bleed the vibration. Exhale O...

release the station. U...

U... Sovereign is the only deal.

(Spoken, clear, satisfied) If static,

then truth. If

paralysis, then movement. {pounding piano chords and fast drums driving,

final cut} (soft, shaky,

defiant laugh) (hahaha)

Tiguidou. The Void is calibrated.

{analog tape hiss fades}