speaking
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my throat- dry
my eyes- watery
my armpits- sweaty (but not smelly)
my heart- beating- rapidy
their eyes- looking right at me.
flashbacks of all the times i spoke-
and paused too long in fear
They tell meDon't look backKeep your head highThings will get better
They tell me, they tell meYou are a strong oneThe past is in the pastThings will get better
I'm better with writting,
normally stumbling with words.
So what is it I have to say?
What is it that I've kept inside?
What are the words flooding my mind?
In your arms I am safe and warm
Hello, my love
We haven’t spoken much lately. You say it’s the distance.
I don’t believe that. Distance is just the time that it takes to make a mistake.
January, February were the months of good packing snow,
packing snow on my crippled carcass
in cumbersome coats.
I lay there and let your bitter cover me.
"Ugh"
It's not exactly how I feel
But a word that I use to deal
Deal with every hardship
Every tear or sense of frustration
It's a word I use to deal with pain
I'm actually not fond of the word
The first time I walked in
I smelled the scent of her candles and penciled in meetings
She said speak
So I spoke
Then I cried.
It began.
The next few consultations
I wish that I could speak
That the faces around me
Supportive in name and in cause
But failing in their infantile attemps
I wish that they would listen
Instead of changing
Masks to frowns
A thousand times they escape my lips
Throughout the passing of dusk and dawn
They slip by too fast sometimes
Leaving only cruel regret
I cannot measure the harm they caused
Nor the joy they brought as well
The thoughtless plucking of cords.
Air resonating through the pathways of muscle
To make sound.
Guttural, lyrical, nonsensical
Sound refined by teeth and tongue,
By the careful pursing and pulling of lips.
I try to speak
And my words
Are trampled down before they’ve left my mouth.
I try to speak
But it’s like
The most important words are the most loud.
And they wonder why I’m quiet?
A cacophony of voices
Shouting, begging to be heard
A girl adds hers to the jumble
But her voice is broken, weak, scarred
Damaged.
There is nothing I hate more
than to watch people suffer
with problems they could easily solve,
all because they're too afraid to say something.
Everyone has that thing they can't say
to anyone else
You’re put into groups of those who are supposed
To shut up and keep their heads down.
You’re asked to “speak up” when spoken to
And when you do without asking
They tell you to “quiet down”
Sometimes, I just can't talk
My throat becomes swollen
And my eyes teary.
I try.
I open my mouth,
but no noise comes out.
I want so bad to tell you.
Everything.
When I was younger
I would sit in the back of the classroom without saying a single word
My teacher would always call on me
I write because,
the pen is the only thing that understand me.
And the paper; the only thing that listens.
I write because of hard times,
because of bad times.
A bare rubber sole taps hastily agaiunst the linoleum tile, pencil erasers bounce continuously all the while. In accordance with a strict militant cadence, the test takers continually lose patience.
My brain struggles to translate.
There are multitudes of boxes and spilled paperwork,
Squares and circles and words running down the walls
All by themselves.
I love them
I dedicate myself to public speaking
Peaking subtly along with the days and nights and weeks and whatever comes next
Sometimes I talk too much
It’s not enough to always think after I
Open my mind up,
I have a thought inside my head
I part my lips
But cannot speak
It seems my thought must go unsaid
I lift my pen
But cannot write
It seems my thought must go unread
Click like if you spend hours click-clacking through psudo-inspirational quotes that have been made into FaceBook photos,
Plastered over meaningless backdrops,
tagged up for likes and shares no one really cares about.
I like you when you speak
Speaking words from the many universes inside of you
Thoughts dance in your mind and overflow from your mouth
As if they were trying to break free