do I always write like this?

Just now I wrote,

There is a song bird in me

And the thought of expression is solitary

I forgot where my nest is roosted

The breath that left my lungs is cracked and lacking itinerary

A dance is leaving my tongue and scraping the door

Where did I lose my keys

Critical eyes bury intent

Grit kicked up in my teeth, they've since been cleaned

An abstraction of self reliance

Three days ago, I wrote, 

Expression ignites furious sensitivities

Initiates thirst and desire for sensational innovation

An entrenchment to consider

Fulfilling flower-quiet ambiguity, not void of purpose

Reveals internal subspaces

A luminous welling of sound echoing

Influencing the questionable perceptions

Translating and rewriting excitation and doubt

Like the mountains offer a challenge

You are realizing with your eyes open

I heard your heart won't know

Life is the interval of exchange

And now,
Words mirror subtextual currencies
Intimate prophecies
Glimmers of actual and imagined
In between relative underpinnings
What is the vocalized architecture of intention
When placement of meaning is unclear?
Or rather what was the interpretation of the thought?
Read thoroughly for change is moving through implication
Sharing a cultural dialogue, I wish I was speaking loudly
Annunciating through the book shelves holding billions of words in this air-conditioned library

Reflections in Perception, mirrors in conversation

Is the sensation of connection driven by the rarity of finding the reflection of oneself in another?
The sensation to keep talking, gesturing, eyes growing wide, or squinting, giggling, relating...
What is transferred when two people are talking? When does the surrounding environment disappear?

If a man and a woman meet to talk, what 'information' is received first? Skin color, age, inflection, attraction? Sometimes I hear two people talking and I am convinced I hear inflection replaying to inflection. I perceive sounds.

A friend said once, 'First when you listen, there is noise then sound, then meaning.'

What about when there are no words that can transpire. What is it to just receive? Or smile, or laugh, or shrug? What about ignoring perception or the reflection of a uncomfortable reality?

What draws two people to look at one another? What of making naked contact, eye to eye... soul bearing even.
Too much? Too soon? I don't know your name yet. Don't get too close.

Wait.

I didn't mean that.

I think I saw myself in you.