Sometimes
I speak
out loud
what I type

like someone
is reading out loud
what I am writing
before I have written it

my fingers are trying
to catch up with the
voice and runs as
fast as they can
typing for life
-

sometimes writing
is a good runaway
a perfect getaway
to a street
hidden form
everyone
else except
myself

and I like it that
way - my little
written secret
in an in a secluded alley
in the midst of the night

Just me and the words
I give life to them
and they get hands
and feet to move around
eyes to see and mouth
to speak - they become
alive - breathing - living
with me - my tavar ishchi

- my travel mates

-

I never feel alone
when the words
are with me
they keep
me sane keeping
the dirt and mud
away from
my brain

stopping my
hands from
trembling
in the cold
making the
light shine
through
my mind


Sometimes
I read it out
loud when
I write

It is the words
speaking

and I


- I am the writer