Every Interaction Ever

 

My voice is a horror show.
A squeaky wheel
Of post nasal drip
And poor annunciation.
As smooth as broken glass,
As nuanced as the murky Gulf,
And yet I have a post graduate degree,
To which, by my shrill voice denounces.
No matter the subject
And really, fuck intellectual
Sentences.
Just stutter and mumble,
Mispronounce and fumble,
The short verbal intercourse.
Flipping hands and grimace
To distract anyone observant
Enough
To see that I’m just a goofy
Dim bulb with wild hair
And outdated four eyes.
Smile and cackle hard.
Maybe they’ll just stare
At my tits instead.

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