the odd oddity

i read your blog and yours oh yours too, to see if there is a part of me there, is a part of there about me, is there some definable joy to be extracted from others' perceptions of the person i see when i brush my teeth everyday.

what would it be to live in a world where hearts are woven onto sleeves, and we all forgo the disconcertingly comforting inane small talk, instead screaming with our eyes squeezed shut and facing planes plants or persons "i am entangled in a nonexistent recollection!"; "i need some practical surreality, or befuddling truth!"

"oh it is wrong, how i do love you so!"