Typing 101 - Poem by nathan martin
gargling to many buttons in my larynx
causes me to cough and curse.
now silly sullen sadness sought
something similar, tongue tied the
fingers are all that remain.
bury a white orchard sheet in blue
genocide every letter under a lamp
in the late evening.
create my own unknown condition
and form a slightly beatiful madness.
search for my messiah on the internet,
then page down and scroll lock a doctrine
become a ten key diciple and sing a few
cap locked hymns.
maybe turn a few wax coated fingerprints
into a voice, then hit print.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You