Pinned and Sprawling

 " And I have known the eyes already, known them all— 
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, 
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, 
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, 
Then how should I begin 
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?                    60 
  And how should I presume?"


The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot


This poem has absolutely nothing to do with stuttering, but it does have a lot to do with silence of account of the fear of being judged by others who may not understand you. I feel as though, if J. Alfred Prufrock were a real man, he would understand exactly how it feels to be absolutely terrified to make a call. He would know how it feels to be caught, to be stuck on a single syllable and to feel those eyes--those  eyes that are boring into you--those eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase. Just that one word can have you pinned and sprawling on a wall. You are a specimen to be examined. You are puzzling and new. You are something to be  dissected and studied. You are a thing--and a strange one at that. 


I am pinned and sprawling. I am at an utter loss for words. I don't know how to tell you that my throat hurts from the strain; only it's not my throat, but my larynx. How do I describe that soreness? How do I explain that my jaw pops and creaks from the abnormal patterns of my speech? Have you felt the stiffness in your cheeks? Don't let me drown, for I can't breathe. My throat is closing and it hurts. 


Take out the pin. Let me down off the wall. Don't examine me as a specimen, but understand me as a person.