Subject: a demon & mad horse (OT) | Date: Tue, 04 Dec 2001 18:33:48 +0100 | From: phofmann  | To: Undertow <undertow@vega.org> || This life is burning and it is turning inside out in an effort to reach, to breach the thick and the vast nothing that nests on my chest like a demon and mad horse. The space between my arms is an empty space, a hurting space, a burning and a strangling space. Paula? Suzanne? How do you manage to get by? How do you manage to go on when the emptiness crushes YOUR chest like a nutshell I don't know how I don't know why my head is buzzing from listening to pilgrimage: an inscription on my skin, a map of scars and scratches, a sword that cuts my heart apart, that scatters it into the winds where it finds peace and it can beat in tune with longitude and longing. || Words won't work anymore: to make myself understood is as impossible as to make myself be loved. This is more than just a broken thread, this is a texture torn apart, the fabric that has kept me warm, woven by your love and understanding. There is nothing as real as my headful of bees and my heartful of birds that keep on flapping nervously into the net of lack and loss and longing. Some things will shine through my body and they ache for a chance. And I do not mean these words. || I'm pushed towards the edges of a world I cannot say a word about except that it's a waterfall so deep the floods will fall without a sense, without a sound. Falling, falling, hey! I don't see the bottom. A sea beyond all harbors, a sea beyond all borders, a sea ruled by a raving captain waving to me bound to a fish. Suzanne, take me to where it's warm. Paula, take me to where I'm loved. Take me to where I will never lose, never lose anything again: not myself and not a n  o t h e r.