#mothwhisper

Mothwhisper: Sometimes I'll start a sentence and I don't even know where it's going, I just hope I find it along the way

Mothwhisper: An apple a day keeps anyone away if you throw it hard enough.

The spaces where I hesitate people see as solemn silence, marked by ignorance or lacking compliance – I am thinking; nobody knows. People like to guess, jump in, cause stress, interpreting my face like it’s a book. I didn’t compose the way I look, I promise. You can’t read me. I must speak. Give me time to. “Before next week” they say. They wait. They filter off and have no patience. I don’t blame them one bit. I’m just looking for words that aren’t even there. A dictionary couldn’t cure my silence. I’m looking for words behind my blank stare, I promise. They fly out my fingers but never my mouth. Spoken conversations tend to go south when you’re silent, perpetually. They don’t even think you’re listening anymore, let alone thinking up a response. It sucks but it’s sense. And I turn ideas over in my head, phrase and rephrase and rephrase and someday I’ll be dead, and all the things, the hundreds of things, I left unsaid, will also be dead.