Heart racing, armpits sweating, unknowing, he lit a fire underneath me.
Words flowing through my brain waves, internal and external words flowing, pouring. I feel human spirit running, grasping at a chance for that mic.
Do I dare participate?
Glued to my chair, sweating, spurred by the MC, he lit the fire under my ass you know.
Do I dare make waves?
I don’t belong here.
My clock is slower than the rest, but I still have time.
Do I dare?
No no, not now! my small pathetic voice and body are not capable, see they are currently frozen on a firey chair.
I could foresee the shakes from my body and the cracks from my voice causing a rift in the earth that would quickly swallow me hole.
No no, it’s not for me. Those rousing waves, you know the ones that make you perk up your ears, those are made by others, by the other people in the world, by those people, because they have it. They just have it. You know, it.
My time is up. I barely stood. I whispered a pathetic question in a fleeting attempt to participate, nothing. So, I bit the dust and promptly stumbled out of there, uncomfortable with my desire to speak. Why should I? Why would I?
“I am the son
And the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular”-The Smiths
How did Morrissey ever overcome stage fright I wonder?
Hey Morrissey, let me in your head. 😉
moosiclovers 
Share your thoughts here....