What Is This? Testo

There is a star in my throat
Yeah, a voice, there is hope
In a space inbetween
Runs the milk of relief
If motion is time
I am water, I will rise
To your bed on a cloud
Where you stand
Where you writhe
Painted red, bleeding gold
Your sword
Guts the sun
Flesh is torn
Oceans disgorge your love
We are swimming through
Your moonlight pools
The phosphene tides
The writing on your eyes

We drift through stone
We sift our own powdered bones
We wash, we are clean
What is it now that is thinking this thing?

Where
Are you?
What can you do
To prove you exist?
What Is this?
Who is this singing
That which no longer exists?