Onward to Silence

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Does not mean talkative; when my withdrawn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.

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