Daniel Bedingfield still sounds like a woman to me, no matter how hard I try to think otherwise.

I woke up smiling today.

Went for my walk.
Found a dandelion and held it to the wind until all the seed pods flew off.
I love spring.

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Tiny fingers curl around the air outside my mouthwindow
Creating a vortex of guaranteed asphyxiation

I inhale in hopes of finding relief
Only to find the strangled air is filled with hallucinogen
Earthy, sweet, and sharp with a certain unique property

It sends my body into panic

The insistent thumping inside my chest serving as proof
Of something delicious and sinister

A tiny gavel chisels away at my achilles
Justice and mayhem in a single stroke

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P.S- Whapachow in action.

Yes. This makes no sense.

Despite the fact that I’m still writing like a retarded crackwhore douchebag.

I had an amazing past few days.
And I’d fill my corner of the internet with a few stories.
But I find that I don’t really want to talk about it.

I’m happy, though. But it’s mine. xD And I don’t want to share.

Neener neener.
[/lolmature]

However, here’s something below that I thought might be interesting to share.
Sometimes I get these feelings that I can’t really describe to myself with “normal” words/phrases/sentences (Conjunction-junction what’s your fuuuuuuuunction?)

So I just kind of word vomit.
You know the drill.

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It’s an interesting feeling to wake up to your heart peering out through your mouth.

Climbed its little fragile self all the way up.
Used your ribs as ladder rungs.

Heart-in-your-throat syndrome initiated by organs.
Alive and curious about the outside world.

“Why do I have to work so hard? Do we have company?”

And just as your dare to answer.
Your mind makes itself known.
And your brain-stem taps the blood-station on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, you’re blocking the view.
Why do I have to concentrate so hard? Do we have company?”

And it’s at this point in time.
Your muscles take a break.
While your vital organs are quarreling for dominance.
When your muscles act of their own accord.
Fidgeting hopelessly.

Stuck in limbo of involuntary and voluntary movement.

And perhaps this is an explanation as to why sometimes I find it hard to concentrate.
My insides working against me like five-year-olds shooting cap guns at each other.

Each signal slightly louder than the last.
Trying to convey a message that gets lost in the cacophony.

They’re so fucking noisy.
I can’t hear.
I’m missing signals.