Can you listen to me? I’m pushing the sound out. My vocal cords vibrating attempting to reach out to you. Mouth open moving forming the words I so urge you to hear. Your eyes meet mine. Finally you can hear me, you understand what I’m saying, you are listening to me. Then your eyes glaze past, and the sound of your booming voice overpowers mine. Leaving me a whisper. Perhaps I wasn’t being loud enough. So I try again, louder, But your eyes don’t meet mine this time. Can you hear me? I wait patiently for a gap in your words to insert myself. Carefully watching the preeminent movements of your mouth, each potent vowel, the flash of your teeth, the slash of your tongue, interlace singing your sound. I too wish to sing, so I wait. And wait some more. Until I see your pause. A breath, you stop and look out past me, pleased with your words. I seize my opportunity. Quickly repeating my own song. Louder and louder until I am screaming. I am screaming at you. You who will not look at me or talk to me. My lungs are pushing out air but I cannot breathe. My throat is red and raw. Burning through me, as my thoughts blare out to you. But you stare on as if I am silent. A mere shadow on the wall, unseen, unheard, unimportant. Still I will continue to scream, yell, wail, howl, until you hear me. I will blister my words into your mind as the sun in my mouth shines. My words streaming like sun rays, a breeding ground for thought, as they touch you and beyond you. Sinking in and settling like treasure long lost in the ocean. My mind is a gift, my words are its vessel, and you will know this ship in our shared sea. So I keep talking, perfecting each syllable, nursing each thought, preparing my symphony. And when it plays it will be powerful. And although you won’t hear me, my bleeding throat my bruised tongue my battered lips will still speak. And my words will be deafening.