Static Slurs

I do not appreciate this transference.

The typewriters sound belongs to a higher way

Every mistake guaranteed and loved. Adored.

This machine leaves me to fix my wrongs unlike my gift.

 

Like the most stained regret, the most unwanted need

I feel nothing but the wish to fix on here.

Wishes aren’t granted on that machine easily.

You must pay for a blanket but even then I welcome the stains

The red, the black, it leaves itself unspoken, untended.

 

The blurs of life are wiped away easily on this silent worker

Whereas glasses are left to be cleared to release a clarity

That could not be accomplished at that moment,

The dish rag to the dish.

 

Confusion muffles

The shuffling tremble chills me and I remember

I recall

I gather about that one fact

 

I left the light on.