Preludes to Shaky Voice Syndrome

I.
I get the urge to rip the grass from my chest when you blink in succession.

II.
When I am in love, I lilypad your thighs.

III.
There is a certain hum--not your hum--that make me cup Tse-Tse flies into my ears.

IV.
When you walk backwards I am convinced I am a train.

V.
I clap my hands on occasion; this has nothing to do with you.

VI.
Grab my wrist and I'll imagine someone groping for the light switch.

VII.
The off-shoot dance involves empathy and underwear stuffed with pinecones.

VIII.
No one appreciates bold; gesture in italics.

IX.
Your molars are real life too.

X.
The landscape is made of treadmills.

XI.
When I run, I spin the world to reach you.