Once upon Taciturnity

What ever is there left to say?

When words fall flat on the clouded floor, and epiphany is knocking at your Cellar Door...

What is there left to say?

Denial is a way of survival, acceptance twilights you into another zone. And the words not said, are the ones that hurt to the bone...


When it is better to say nothing than say everything at all...
...What ever is there left to say?

Letters stand next to each other...
...Laconic...
...Moronic...

Stares glace at each other...
...Harmful...
...Dreadful...

Obvious silent Truths face each other...
...Mascarating...
...Liberating...

And when everything has been said in the deafening scream of reticence...

What is there left to say?

Once upon a silence

. . . dot, dot, dot. . . 

...Words are strangers to me... enemies...

Aware of what has to be said, my fingers do not manage to type.

 Can I trust my printer, to carry the message through?

day in 

day out... 

16 days... and it's done...

whenever will certainty strike?

. . . dot, dot, dot. . .

The room remains in a deafening silence. The endless buzz of an overworked computer is entrancing. 

A cold drop of vanity runs through my back, freezing down to my bones. 

. . . dot, dot, dot. . .

...The words not said,  hold more power than those shout out loud...