Milk from a stone

Sequine curtains
Deepwater moan
Blood from a cheek
Milk from a stone

Stir until it screams
Sinks into your dreams
Dries the roots
Drinks the fears

Throw me in the water
Chuck me in the ink
I will swim
My anvils will sink

Cut me open
When I'm all alone
Instead of red
You'll see a tone

What I long for
Doesn't have a name
Cold as a spectre
Warm as shame

So I look through the dark
To see what I've sown
From spark within a spark
A door has grown 

exit

my senses
died
in a toy-church
when I was young
and still unknowing
lovable
but didn't know
what love was

I dreamt of wars
beyond the level of my eyes
raging through the brain hills
and no one was ever winning
it only ended with sweat
and my eyes wide-shut
and my mouth wide-open
filled with fear spilling over
like bread-crumbs
crumbling mountains
crippled limbs
floating serenly
through the endless vacuum

I knew this wasn't me
even though in my dreams
I kept getting lost
in unlit supermarkets
with empty racks that cried
in half-starved hospitals
where all the beds were waiting
for me
but I was just running away
trying so hard not to be seen
just looking for a hole
to shit and piss into
without being seen

and I never dared to look up
to see if somebody else
is opening up the door for me
to pass through
so I escaped
through the crack
in my throat
the voice was tiny
but screaming like a boiling kettle
in panic
the impeccable mother approaching with an impeccable baby
perfect but braindead
walking towards me like in a lynchian movie
but all the light-bulbs died
saving me from the horror

I was spilled to the ground
still trying to find the form to take
but each day I'm sure more and more
that I will find
the exit.



Listen to Exit on SoundCloud.

Every beat of the heart brings change
Inhale, exhale, never the same
The only thing constant is the variation
Dripping into the veins of the air
Scattered, then fused back into one unit, then divorced from the unity again
Nobody's
But a part of everything

painting by Petra Rubar