Swallows

Came out of sleep, beneath the rainbow.
That doesn't even know her name,
And yes, it shows. A bedfellow
Of years gone quiet.
That old pirate smuggling
Words out of the limelight.
A slow trickle of the river,
Where the music lacks a lifeline.

It just flows, it’ll flow
Out of the black night.
I know the words, but I can't say them.
I know the words but my mouth,
It cannot form them
The mouth, wide-open,
Dropping pearls of wisdom like a leaky sea.
Not my mouth, not my words,

I am disputed,
By the prosthetic tongue,
The barbaric amputee.
Ridicules me, the mute, or is it the quiet?
The astute disputed.
Lift a hand, and wave the noise away.
Only listeners. At keyholes,
Or at bedroom windows.

Care for silly riddles.
But I care for silly riddles,
Silly thoughts that remain,
Caressing, and at times
Beating the poor, screaming brain.
There is no escape
For these words from their cages.
The lips are sealed by lock and key.

The brainwaves are cluttered
With strychnine,
White lightning, poor sulphur
Decorating the twilight.
Yours is the mouth, mute.
You swallow but you never outgrow
The winters. Like the Swallows
You are mine. You are I.

But we are separate.
We are strangers and we are
The best of friends.
The mind, or is the body? That gratifies
Its uneasy relationship,
Between gravity, and planets
With colliding orbits.
Brain says speak, the mouth is granite,

The tongue drops dead.
The congealed Organ plummets.
Brain says 'catch you!' the arms,
They are waiting. To catch you,
And catch you they will.
I thought I heard a screaming,
A screaming coming out
From the depths of you, mute.

A screaming, coming out my
Own mouth. But my mouth is
Barren; it is a desert
With it’s sandstorms.
It's a trick of the light,
Operation - a sound wave's transplant.
Transparent even,
But I see, the contradiction that

These walls would ever talk to me.
I cannot even say my name.
The angry brain is raging. Growing,
Growing lesions, vicious tumors.
The skull prison, the eyes stare out,
The ear, it listens.
The nose consumes its oxygen.
But the mouth! The open gateway,

Path to freedom cluttered
With rocks that
Block the path that leads the way.
Reeling. You. I. Mute,
Without a chance. Got lucky,
Did you? Did you? Dance! Please dance
If you can't sing, if you can't sing,
Then there is no use for me.

To be here anymore.
But be here, I am waiting.
Breaking alien bread, I baked it.
The dust on my body falls off,
This old dust? Well I’ve made it,
The ashes of tissues and breadcrumbs,
Coated in the scent of summer,
And the stench of the war limes.

Well this sea, it’s flowing
Once more, so I guess
I’ll just go with it, If only going
With it wasn't such a chore -
Choice less, the old mute speaks,
The voice cracks but
The blood pushes, and pounds in my ears.
Old voiceless sleeps for a thousand years.

Peasant Mercury,
Doing the cha-cha on a
Sound wave. Beats like hell
Deep in the brainwaves.
My worst of all fantastic friends.
My worst fear is breathing,
And I can't stand the motion.
Oh you, he has come down

In his moon boat on angry water's.
I am pushed along at a
Rabbit’s pace, the rapids,
The cool air of the world I am not part of.
Well I’ll sparkle, the cold spring,
Out of winter I’ll come swimming in,
It feels like a drowning,
But it feels so good to feel.