Social Anxiety in a Crowded World

You want to know what makes me tick?

The way the words flow from my fingertips, but stop just short of my lips.


I am fierce

I am a thunderstorm of emotion, a swirling complex of a generation of speakers


But not out loud, never out loud

A ringing phone scares me, never mind answering the door

Standing in front of class is a nightmare of garbled, jumbled words


They are not words

These stuttered sounds

Syllables, letters



Fucked up and twisted


I shake when I talk

My head spins, breath falling short


I can write.

I can speak with a keyboard, with a pen

Like I can’t outloud.

On the best days, on the very best days I am Patrick Henry with a pen

I am Winston Churchill, Demosthenes, Pericles, JFK

Give me a pen, and I will write you a thousand words


But not out loud, never out loud

Can’t even say one



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