When my fingertip lightly touch
that one solitary key
a single button with an alphanumeric symbol painted on it's face...
... this is where my fingers start their journey
towards a goal, towards a purpose not known to even the finger that started it all
it's in their obliviousness they speak their loudest nothing.

It always starts at random
maybe even, dare I say, by mistake
when one symbol emerge from a hand placed on the board of keys
... just the first one and the others, carefully erased
this is done with the aid of opened eyes
and a soft tap-tap-tap... and so on... as need be...
of the key defined by an arrow pointing left.

Every single line is a product of the act described above
it tends to be more fun that way...
... artificial to be sure... but a game I like to play

Sometimes I cheat...
... just because I can
and sometimes I'm real strict
every word is accidental...
... it gets a kinda' hard like that
sometimes impossible... complicated...
hours and hours on a single page

At times I wonder if I'm wasting my time...
... but is it even possible to waste?
You'd need to be able to control it...
... to waste it.

Perhaps this is all just an intricat plot...
... a web of lies told for one single reason
and that reason could be
only this

to write without a beginning...
a middle...
or an end...

Then again... it might just be a bunch of words
stapled together to make the illusion
that something was actually written
when all there really was
was nothing more than words
totally free from meaning or purpose

a nothing, you see?
... from something

/