Slightly Autobiographical

Slowly, ever so slowly, he feels his jaw muscles stretch. Aching, as if unused and utterly unaccustomed to the concept of function, the mouth opens. He tries, and he tries. He really does. But nothing happens. The magic has passed, has it? He yearns to hear his own voice, to put into words whatever it is that resides in his head. He doesnt know what it is. It doesnt work that way. It must come out, for it to take shape, and assume proper form. So he struggles. His throat hurts, and his vocal cords tighten. Nothing. He gasps and pants from strenuous effort. A glass of water, perhaps? A few minutes' rest, and then another attempt? Nothing seems to work.

He tries again.