Somewhere a pen clicks repeatedly-
wait, is that from me?
Quivering, thin fingers repeatedly
press the silver button, anxiously
creating an irregular tempo.
My heart pulses erratically, sweat
trickling down my neck.
People are staring, stop making noise,
stop being nervous
Detach, detach, deep breaths,
disconnect.
It's so much easier to observe myself
from afar than it is to be in the
present.
I crave objectivity for myself,
distancing my heart from my brain
to-
No, focus. Stop rambling. There are
things to be done and phrases to be
said.
Time and place, time and place.
Mantras flood my mind and take root
in my surroundings.
I hear the pen clicking again.
My eyes are heavy; dark and weighed
down by a million thoughts that
clutter my mind like millions of
hamsters spinning in wheels, always
in a hurry to get no where fast.
Click, click, click, click.
My heart hammers in my chest but
my eyelids threaten to fall closed.
Too much coffee, not enough sleep,
my daily recipe for disaster.
2 more hours, 2 more hours.
Am I relieved or stressed?
An audible sigh escapes my chapped lips as my hand reaches for my travel mug.
Sure it's 2 more hours until I go home, but at the same time I only have 2 more hours to finish.
Maybe I should get started.
It's probably too late now anyways, what's the point?
God, what is the point?
The point of anything?
Live, breed, die? Is that all there is to this world? To this race? To-
Not now existential crisis! I'm trying to finish my...
Wait, what am I doing?
Meaningless thoughts bounce around in my skull and I can't help but dig my fingers into my temples to try and mute the echos reverberating down my spine.
Click, click-
A hand grips my arm and I jump with a start as a pair of brown eyes burn into mine.
The echos come to a screeching halt and time seems to slow.
"Can I borrow a pen?"
A sheepish smile graces his face.
Wordlessly I dig through my pencil case and hand him over a blue pen identical to the one beside me.
He smiles, his hand brushing mine.
"Thanks, I'll return it later."
And as he turns away the mountain of chaos erupts in my head once again.
Suddenly, I find myself longing for that pair of chocolate brown eyes that momentarily managed to silence my tumult of thoughts.
In the back of my head a whisper nags it's way to the forefront of my mind.
1 and a half more hours.
YOU ARE READING
Silent Mouths, Rambling Minds
Poetry"Those who speak the least have the most interesting things to say,"
