Speak

This mouth! This bulging, spongy, corpulescent, puckered, untrustworthy, throbbing, deceiving, feckless, lazy, troublesome, swollen, slothful, negligent, double-crossing, shiftless fiend of an orifice! This bulbous tongue! These equinoid teeth! This flaccid uvula! Curse this inadequate organ, that it cannot speak!

I could persuade the stars to loose their bonds on the heavens, if only I could create the sounds! I could drive the mountains to tears, if only I could form the words! Cities would hearken to my every utterance, countries would rise to my greeting, planets would dance to the chant of my tongue...if only I could SAY it!

It is not a slowness of wit; the words are there almost before the idea has formed. They are lined up on the porches of my lips, ready to cascade outward, a meaningful convoy of sweet reason, when my MOUTH moves into action, butchering each syllable! Jettisoning a machine-gun fire of noise, shattering words into pieces, choking over the simplest of sounds! For the sake of my MOUTH, I must dumb myself down, cut each word into bite-size pieces of two or three syllables lest my teeth tear it into shreds and my tongue crush it into illegibility and my palate smother it into oblivion.

This MOUTH!! Why was I born with this MOUTH?!  The words cannot come forth from the lips, so they instead pour out of the fingers, a poor man's substitute to a well-made argument. Who can enter a debate and then pause it to wait while she types out an answer? No! Her place will be taken if she does not release a tripping titillating tintinnabulation, a spoken crescendo of well-formed thoughts. And I would if I could, but this MOUTH!!! Why do I have this MOUTH?!!! Why must all of my eloquence be confined to the printed page? Why must I speak using the barest of terms in conversation? Why is my mouth the flood barrier instead of the floodgate?

Let me SPEAK!