2/21/11

There once was a woman who talked all the time.

From sunset to sunrise she preached and pronounced.

She chattered and prattled and wistfully whined,

And when irritated, expounded in shouts.

She issued, with volume, each thought in her head,

Without second thought of result or effect.

There was no intention behind what she said,

Just pure stream of consciousness, launched and beset.

And as each cacophony fell from her tongue,

What subtext did her conversation belie?

Perhaps it was just songs of terror she sung,

And fear of the silence that sounds when we die.