Writer's Whispers

Existential Loneliness?

When I write,

I write with too many words:

When I speak, try to express myself,

I jump from viewpoint to viewpoint -

being unsatisfied with my speech

as though the person is requesting another one

of my long ass, and in those moments, concise poems.

Then I read their faces

as the words flow out of my mouth

like the flow of sweet liberating ink out of my pen -

but sometimes those words build my cage

as they trigger furrowed eyebrows

wide mouths

shocked eyes:

Oh no!!

I said the wrong fucking thing...

now they think I'm fucked up.

Then

my voice drones off,

the amplitude of my vocal sound waves

reach a value so its unheard by human ears -

but I'm sure some bats somewhere

are listening to my words and,

perhaps not shunning me.

But my voice drones off

in my hasty attempt

to retain what's left of my societal facade:

so they don't see me as fucked up,

just as

"slightly messed up" - but I can handle that.

It's better than witnessing everyone deserting you

and watching that one person who publicly shuns you, break you down and humiliate you publicly.

So that you scrap another failed attempt to be human and socialise,

so that you go home and write a poem like this,

so that you hate yourself

and question if there exists a being

who can understand you -

or at the very least,

will allow you

to be 100%

you.