incognito mode

Could you touch me how I touch me or different and better? Watching my words morph ever so slightly in other fonts, other hues, others times. Am I bold enough? Am I italic to you? Slanting to the right as if you have pushed me but I have not fallen. I am just tilted. Titillating. How would you touch me? I haven't a clue. I could not even say how I would touch you. If I even could. I can and have and would plan it all out in my head for hours on hours. The script perfected. But planning can only go so far. Confidence in mind and confidence in real time are different.  My body will never cooperate. My body the bad actor. Can't play the part for a minute. My hands will choke. I just know it. Forget their line and forget the time. Tremble and be scared and be little embarrassed digits fleeing the scene. My mouth with stumble over words which it flip-flopped into nonsense. Eyes brimming with tears instead of light. Beneath the stage, out of sight like a leper, I can rest. Close the browser. Clear the history. It's like nothing ever happened.