If you know me well
Enough, you will know, that
I am noisy.
My brain sounds like
A lone mosquito in your bedroom
On a quiet night
When you are desperately trying
To fall asleep.
My thoughts are tiny,
Excited fish jumping out of still waters
Creating ripples that will soon die out
The moment they plop back into crippling oblivion.
And you will know, that noisy
Does not mean talkative; when my withdrawn
Existence, and my sworn loyalty
To the corners seem
Contradictory, my anxiety still throbs
And you can hear my fidgety, paradoxical heartbeat
Cut the supposed silence into a thousand pieces
While my naïve, impulsive words
Fall at the listener like a half-ripe green apple, with a
thud, my almost-profound gibberish
Its sour, unsettling aftertaste
Swims in my mouth, like emptiness.
And if you can, knowing this,
Bear with my lingering mad echo
That sounds like a toddler, now
Acquiring the pleasures of language,
I will soon learn to talk; with my vocabulary intact
We can then
Resume to discover
The lost applause of silence.