The speaker begins in frustration, screaming, yelling and whispering at nothing and no one, spilling out angry words and watching them disappear. The first half feels like a release of pent-up feeling, but one with no listener and no answer. Nothing pushes back, and nothing changes.
Then the poem shifts from anger to wonder. The speaker compares the vanished words to dreams and starts asking questions: where do dreams go, what happens to thoughts, where do days go once we've lived them? The comparison to tape being recorded over or files being deleted gives these questions a modern, slightly cold edge, as if memory were just storage that can be wiped. The ending circles back to the wind and the wall, suggesting that everything we say or feel might fade in the same way.
The mood is restless and wistful. It's less about rage than about the fear that our words, and our days, leave no trace.