Transatlanticism

Say something dumb. Say something funny.
Say something. At all.
This silence is over-rated.
I do not deserve it.


This silence is not borne out of avoidance, it stems from hesitation.
And I wish I could scream it out for you, but I cannot decide what to-when to-why to say what I want to say, or whether I want to say anything at all - because I'm afraid you might misconstrue
I'm afraid you might confuse; because I'm tripping on my words, I'm sliding and slipping in this quagmire of a vocabulary and I know so many words;
But I can't find any at all.
It's a classic game of lost-and-found, I cannot translate my thoughts to sound.


So you're going to just sit there, I'm going to just be here, and nothing is going to happen -
Is that it?
There's a vacuum between, there's a vacuum around and it feels like all of all that was is
Spiraling into nothingness. Just a stark, dark black hole that is now a secret hiding place
Where we now hide things that we once shared. Things we couldn't wait to tell each other, and the things that we now curl and up and hide within ourselves with all our might, because all that
We once saw as little flaws are now hideous lapses that we should have never revealed but we did, so it's time for those psychological blankets which we can hide under.


I don't know what you're thinking, I might know what you're thinking but I'm too afraid to guess because then I might be wrong. I don't want to be wrong, not in front of you, not any more, I'm going to be the know-all-Superman.


There is no point, anymore.
Silence might be golden, but it's over-rated.
Gilded exaggeration, this quietude.


You're going to leave now. You always did, I'm not surprised, because silence irks you.
I'm sorry, that's all I can extricate from my wild mind right now,
But maybe we'll talk later?