Why So Much Trash Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI

They tell me:
Why so much trash?
It wearies you,
it bores the others.
It is a sign of illness—
you must understand.

I remain silent.
I do understand.

But when words
flood the mind,
what else is there to do?
I only keep a record
of what arrives—
nothing more.

Perhaps I am unwell.
Yet my unwellness is private:
quiet, restrained, still.

I stare at the android screen
and wonder—
could a man be so inundated
with words
that one day
he disappears within them.