Can You Hear Me Now

When each sentence is a sentence to oratory purgatory,

There’s no violence like silence.

When I speak a word and go unheard,

When my every utterance is met with, “Can you speak more clearly?”

It’s enough to drive me insane.

“Can you hear me now?” has become my go-to refrain.

I feel less than,

My cheeks flushed with heat,

When I’m asked to repeat my words

Again and again.

Each syllable is a subliminal criminal,

A thief of time and energy,

Making communication shallow and banal, hollow so you can follow what I’m saying.

Speaking is like flaying myself, filling me with lethargy as I wait to see if you can hear me. 

I fear anywhere the background volume is above a whisper,

Lest my voice disappear,

Engulfed in the whir of the crowd.

It’s frustrating, infuriating, mentally deteriorating

Wondering if the other is hearing what I’m saying.

So:

Can you hear me now?