I want to talk so much.
Just talk talk talk.
Cannot stand the quiet, I'd rather have a riot.
Is it extroversion that drives me on,
to have displeasure in total calm?
I need to exchange words,
words words WORDS.
Feel as if a rat in desperation,
as all stay quiet in neutral stations.
Late at night here I stand,
my last resort written by hand.
No dialogue, no reply,
it's like a madness to try and bind.
The words will flow the more I write,
to soothe my social appetite.
Why is this? Solitude grating my nerves,
why am I not one to go without verbs?
Around me people seek moments alone,
to recharge, sure, a method their own.
No other option then, just squirm in one place,
keep my mouth shut, not spew words in haste.
So many thoughts, bottled up inside,
some with opinions far too wide.
I need to talk for them to organize
and lay out the truths from the lies.
Ears to listen, a mind to connect with,
I'm missing most in a lengthy chatter fit.
Too many words, too long the talk,
they think the attention is not enough.
So as I sit here, with untold thoughts,
I'll be the grey then, join them lots.
Maybe it's extroversion, my recharge is chatter,
maybe it's the lack of silence that matters.
All in all, what ever the reason,
too long is the span of my attention.