HIT ME (beyonce vs chris brown)

nightengaled heartbeating through the dark evening with a certain rhythm, a shivvering tragedy, whatever you heard before whatever you needed they handed you spoonfuls, plugged-nose forcefulness, fifty-fifty that cookie dough for me, cut them similarly for me, I can't write, I have seven complete poems as of right now, and I want to have fifteen by the end of April, and the chance of that happening right now...I need stimuli. I need tumblr. I created a new blog today, I think I'm going to wait a bit to get some photo's up before I post it or anything, or even tell anyone about it. I need some more poetry, now. INSPIRE ME. Accio muse! Maybe I'll freeze myself in my sleep tonight, I've always been a method-writer. why do hearts beat in double-times, or triples? fluttering in a thumping chest, a pound amongst the sticks and stones of a body, trying to avoid a piercing blow to those balloon-like lungs that flummox and grasp air in my chest, I really can't write, maybe it's because I'm reading hunger games as I write. I need seven poems. Accio poems. no poems appeared. Britches be crazy. Ah well, I tried. I'm debating just watching skins now, because I want to finish the season... I love that show. Holla season four! Coming up shortly, after I finish this post, probably. i still haven't seen the new game of thrones, tomorrow! I love poetry. damnit. All over the place today apparently, what can I say?