Unspoken

Sargent Pepper’s lonely hearts at a mixer
Fixer up homes require million dollar loans
California cuisine is just our identities fused on a plate
It makes me queezy. I’m alone in company.
I walked into a room of familiar faces I’ve never met.
Monet could make my first impressions beautiful
But I’m full of doubt and details complicate the picture
I’m just a social fixture and my voice blends with the radio
Just white noise to fill the awkward silences, almost violent
They send smoke signals and enjoy short term memory loss
I’m at a loss of what to do,
I don’t smoke and my signal won’t reach you
So I smile and enjoy not knowing anyone in my company

Yet I wonder,
Do they know? Could they read my mind?
Can they hear your name?
Unspoken.