My fingers are joined to the keyboard

My fingers are joined to the keyboard
As if like connections in a telephone exchange

I can’t tell if they are part plastic and metal
Or if the keyboard is made of flesh

The keyboard is a shackle for my hands
Or the stocks where the fools hands are clamped inside

They once I wrote with one hand on paper
It was a dancing hand like an Italian wind in a vineyard

I could make it fly like a bird searching for another hand to hold

But ahead of me the scrapyard robot grapples another human typewriter
Where modern writers are sent at the end of their usefulness

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LOVE YOUR PET™

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Post, news, diary... All the world around me, ALL THE WORDS AROUND YOU

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Relatos desde mi ventana

Sentimientos, emociones y reflexiones

Thinking Chitalia

As opposed to a “not thinking chitalia”

.*♥**♥*★ *♥*..*♥*. BERNARD *♥**♥*★ *♥*..*♥*.

♥♥ ♥♥ MES PLUS BEAUX BISOUS D'AMITIES A VOUS ♥♥ ♥♥

AuAu Over

Storytelling Notes Blog

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Be careful, I might convince you.. You are art.✨

Naked on the inside

Writing like no one will read it.

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