your'e such a girl its unbelievable-- *as a man* , i could hug that to death.  as your friend, i'm just sitting here typing with a big smile on my face.  you know, your *flip-flop, on-off* overly-sensible troublesome waffling is really surely just your heart fluttering.  fluttering by just like those huge blue panamanian butterflys that used to accompany some unseen warrior on his jungle runs. and the *insanity* is just heart ascending over mind.  and the *butter melting* just your irresistible personal value-added  flavoring to routine yet chaotic poppings of lifecorn. and the *soul sin-heavy*, first and foremeost, your awareness of precious souldom which mostppl  have become thoroughly desensitized to; and then, merely  a matter of lingering with cowering mind-grounding soul rather than letting the fluttering heart take it to wing.  and *mind off dreaming*  is just, well, just the most amazing you exploring…looking for new worlds…or new ways in old worlds…demanding nothing less than romance…yet much always more…

I am the future face of air terror.  It’s the bomb within me.  The one they missed at airport security even though some small change in my pocket set off the alarms and they repeatedly wanded me down.  Hell, even my new running shoes alarmed repetitively as if there was a knife hidden in them—though they didn’t check.  But it’s the bomb they missed.  The one implanted deep within and remotely triggerable by radio signal.  By the little seeming transistor radio I carried on in my handbag.  Or by a comrade bouncing a signal off a satellite in my vicinity.  And, oh yes, did I mention the demented doctor who implanted the bomb, also enwrapped it in a plastic-sealed bag of the bubonic plague.  He used to do tummy-tucks of cocaine for the Medelin Cartel but now he’s with our cause.  He knows it ain’t a science yet, but figures there’s a fair chance that as my body blows a hole in the plane’s fuselage, the plague will get jettisoned airborne over my departure or destination city.  What city?  Now that’s not a fair question.  I’m an equal-opportunity terrorist and would hate to see you personally miss out.  

So today was a test run; tomorrow’s the targeted flight.  Think I’ll mosey on down to the tiddy bar, booze a little, and let a couple of those salacious babes fondle the unseen death within me for one very last time…