Scribble #92

I am so quiet. Yet my head is so full and noisy I wonder how I unconsciously compartmentalize all my thoughts - and which do I let out already? My mouth wouldn't be able to keep up. My tongue keeps tripping over itself, like a dusty, unseasoned carpet. With my untold imagination and daydreams, I am like the moon: seemingly simple, faraway and irreproachable, keeping to myself, capriciously changing shape and sides with the seasons, but I shine all the same. I try to shine brightly, like silk and pearl droplets, on others in the darkest times.