Feeling Froggy? Buckle In.

Like an exposed conduit of emotional turmoil, those feelings people radiate like sound waves out of range of human hearing, aren't often beyond mine. The sound of a tonal shift in someones voice can scrape through my ear canals and rake my insides like jagged claws gutting me from unfathomed depths. Ebbing emotions prickle my skin in an array of sensations from needles to the butterfly kisses of popping bubbles. More often than not, causing me trouble.

Too often those feelings contradict the facades poured on me like heated mollases, sticky and dripping with sugars-- natural in the undertone of genuine organic goodness, yet also artificially flavored by self-interested purpose. Offering promises that have to be purchased.

I'm broke. Penniless like an empty piggy-bank, a hollowed mass of shattered pieces, held together by the glue of will. The fundamental force felt inside like a fire consuming all the oxygen in the cavernous space of my nothingness-- creating that something. The It that creeps through my veins burning so slow I smolder with emotions which billow out and around as a vocal cloud. A fog that's loud.

My bones tend to rattle under the pressure of invisible bulkheads sealing in all the affecting smog of worry, doubt and fear. Worry eats away the nerve endings like acid, while doubt inflames various layers of skin as itchy as internal mosquito bites. Fear (the fatal fucker) fucks my frontal-lobe like a serial rapist on Viagra, sending me reeling into a victim mentality-- then I'm suckerpunched by reality.

A low blow in the back of the head vibrates an echo of truth until it slices into the forefront of my consiousness where it can thunder. In an effort to block out the emotional radiation of others, I bottled my own. The toxic mist saturating my soul like an ice-bath after a soak in boiling turbulant waters, was the trapped exhaust of a car stuck in the garage. I was parked in my own hot-box of misery, sweating under the magnifying glass that amplified a blazing but one-sided perspective. Mine. It was right in front of me, the whole time.

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