Stop Talking at Me
This isn’t a conversation.
This is you,
Talking at me,
Masturbating your tongue with the soundwaves that deliver your thoughts,
To unwitting ears,
Next to a mouth whose opinion is very -
You couldn’t care less,
About whether or not their minds are open or receptive,
To even materialize a response,
The ultimate receipt and proof of purchase.
Words melt into everything and immortalize themselves as stains,
On our tongue, on our lips, on our skin,
On our brains,
And wherever else we chuck them.
When you impose a one-person dialogue upon an unwitting me,
You are hogging one of the most finite resources of our life:
Without concern nor interest in,
The universes sitting beside you.
Did I just derail your train of thought?
Since you’ve given me no choice but to listen,
I might as well return the favor:
Do you ever think of all this beauty that eludes you,
Simply because you’d rather assault ears,
Than indulge in the thoughts of others?
Beauty never faded,
But you did.
But for now, I’ll continue sitting here,
As my fingers type frantically,
With my eyes, cemented to the screen,
And occasionally humor you with a monosyllabic response.
As you talk at me, not with me,
And disregard an entire world that you’ll never (want to) see.
#Unreal #StillReal #Poem #TalkingAtMe #ShutUp #YourSilenceIsGolden #YourTongueGotLoose