Stand, just me. Whether I'm alone or there are alot of people around me.
Open my mouth as big as I can,
so that anyone can see all the fillings,
all the interior of the mouth and throat,
and scream.

An airplane takes off, a baby cries,
a siren when a war starts,
a soprano singing the highest octaves of the magic flute.
All the sounds in the world in one sound,
all the voices in the world concentrated into one voice - mine.

Scream even after there's no air left,
even when the throat is red and aching.
Scream all the self-loathing,
the jealousy, the love.
Scream all the shyness, insecurity, friendship.
Scream until every thought or feeling will disappear,
until all the pain fades.

And then the silence that sounds like the scream,
and the throat that hurts with every breath.
And the tears - wet and salty rolling on the cheeks, to the lips.
And the tongue that tastes them and remembers other nights.

I write and the words have a certain touching, a new feeling,
an easiness of expressing without really being.
A baby falls asleep in the cradle,
a new flower, a whisper of lovers.
The words have quietness, a kind of calmness, some noble quality.
And I want to shout aloud that that's the way I am - loves too much.

And can't because it's impolite, and prohibited. And society looks at me and says that's her madness. But I don't care because society knows dick, so I don't have to relate.
But the heart when it's bound won't let me.

So instead of shouting I keep quiet and instead of crying I write.
for them.
And they read it and like it and laugh,
and can't see because they can't shout.

And only one that knows that's what life's about, reads and says nothing.
Because silence is the words.