I’m typing like I’m talking. I’m trying to keep up with my thoughts. It’s heated because all I can hear is the ringing in my ears, my breathing and the clicking of the letters on this screen. I’m mashing the buttons like I want to be heard and felt. I’m pushing and packing as much passion as I possibly can through my thumbs into these letters. I want to be clear and concise, picturesque and as fluid as I need to be to paint the picture in my head and heart. Typical colors won’t do. Odd and abstract hues that didn’t make the Crayola box are the ones I’m choosing. I must be into this deep. I notice my brows are clinched and my abs are engaged to the point that my whole body is involved in something way deeper than rap. My phone has become my mic and a got a few verses to spit.
I can hear the emotion. I can hear the words being recited in my head. I can feel the heat. I can’t make this up. I’m not sure where I have disappeared to? I’ve zoned out to a mental place where you and I are sending signaled messages back and forth at a rate and pace that our heart rates are losing attempting to keep pace. How did this happen and how did we get here? We’re going at it and others who might be eavesdropping and watching are captivated by an intense virtual tennis match of words being volleyed back and forth and I’m not sure whose winning. This is the new virtual game with the headset that covers your eyes and the controllers, except there is no headset.
You ever watched a heated text battle back and forth? You can tell somebody is scoring big points on the board. It’s obvious when someone took a hard shot. The brows rise up, the eyes buck and squint, the face gets closer and they begins to lip sync the words received. Instead of tennis, maybe it’s Mixed Martial Arts taking place inside the octagon of this cellphone. I’ve never been a fast typist but I want to get my complete thought out before the response bubbles start brewing and you interrupt me mid swing and sentence, plus I’m trying to proofread and edit at a thousand miles an hour. Some words can’t afford to be misspelled lest we lose the flow and ebb of this magic carpet ride. I’m feeling myself and I’m in a flow back and forth with you that’s got me feeling some kinda way. Wait a minute, there should be some rules to this. You just can’t let some things fly without some censorship and thought. You gonna what, when, how and where? You paint a picture of a perfect lake that looks so real and inviting that I can feel myself splashing and wading in the water because its in my head. Why is my shirt wet? No really!! This can’t be one sided so I grab the brush of my thoughts and the paint of my words and I send you a telegram of verbiage that you can equally enjoy.
What’s crazy is when you read it back to me. I can tell when certain explanations take you hostage and your mind malfunctions and possibly overloads. It’s when you pause. The pause always gives it away. It’s crazy because you have no clue how someone else can interpret what makes you tick. They say the right things, the right way, at the right time, in the right cadence plus tone, it blows you away. You call a timeout and have a meeting with yourself and agree, “This ain’t normal or regular right here!! This ain’t that. This is what Dorthy said, “This is a horse of a different color!!” I should have backed out when I had a chance but I’m in too deep and I ain’t looking for exit just yet. I want to be slayed.
Great conversation clearly make it obvious and exposes your useless indulgence in boring, bland, unproductive and empty conversations. I’m not face to face but present in the room is emotion, passion, intellect, imagination and visualization. You shout out, “Kidnap me mentally, I want to go!!!” I hate to put up a fake fight to give the impression that I am resisting because that would be a bold face lie!! My mind and heart have been starving and I know it because I’m feasting at what sounds like a perpetual buffet. If walls could talk? No if ears could smile!! Mine are cheezing!!
I look up finally from my phone and notice the sun has went down and time which was, is no more. It’s late and we’ve been chatting for hours. I have things to do but I don’t want to land this space ship. Alien abductions are hard to come by these days and I can’t be flagging down every Tom, Dick and Harry with a tricked out Spaceship. Ttyl
Days have gone by and I look into the sky but no visitation. I Really don’t know if there are magic words, a catch phrase or an abra kadabra!! I get antsy so I type in your first name in bold letters and wait. Time transpires and no text bubbles….Are you still out there? Have you found another? You can’t just text and disappear? A Brotha can’t get a row of bubbles? We shared something special? You just can’t text hit it and quit it!! I type the word, “Hey” but no bubbles…here I sit, sore thumbs, mind blown, wanting and waiting. Waiting on what? Text bubbles…
I’m concerned. Either I am becoming a great captivating writer or you are as crazy as the am. Let’s not talk about it.
I’ll holla later