It's Not My Nightmare

I breathe hard in my head,
my eyes and nose
stuttered syllables
dribbling on my lips
myself is conscious
of me and my words
I feel a thousand eyes
trained on myself and me
and we're now
apparently up.
Scooting to the podium
fear-tinged sweat pervades
they can smell it it seems
my legs shake, knees knock
fingers tremble, toes tap
muscles twitch
and I am awkward.
A large and disgruntled
bug begins to crawl
up my throat
its twelve limbs are long
its thorax fuzzy
and I choke on it
"The primary function
of the ulgk---"
vomit
in my mouth, not out
I swallow hard and
futilely try to mime normal
but its not near normal.
the bug is now unhappy
extremely pissed in fact
its made me gag.
I feel the eyes
not pity or empathy
they judge and
judge and laugh
and judge and
mock and hate
cruel and heavy
they press down
forced oration breeds
this discomfort in spades
hearts and clubs
where are my notes
where is my deliverance
how do I go on
eyes wander
and it seems for now
they've given up their mean games
its lost its fun and now
everyone feels the hailstorm
of my humiliation
its dampened their bloodlust
no more patience
and I walk off
dead inside
mortified
but relieved
and this sick dream
is over.