Speak to me

Its called public speaking

But I am utterly alone in front of this fake,

fiber board,

paper figgiting,

fucking podium.

I can see it in their eyes.

They anticipate my words

as much as I loath them.

Cough,

clear you throat,

your a performer

a great juggler

bleeding in front of a room of razor toothed hecklers.

I'm sure they'll remember your name

they'll burn the ground you've stepped on

to cleanse it of your lingering, godless opinions.

They're waiting fruit in hand

to offer you prizes

or splatter you with disdain

and self serving amusement.

Speak

its now or never

the orators you admire

roll in their graves with laughter.

I'm sorry,

did you mean to be taken seriously?