I am in love with my typewriter. I love it nearly as much as I love my sprouts. It inspires me to write: letters, poems, random reflections of nothingness. I even like how some of the keys are quite difficult to push down. I adore how it doesn't use electricity. I will write more about her (the typewriter) later this week. In the meantime, here is a typewriter poem. From now on, poems or ramblings that were originally written on the typewriter (she will soon be named) will be in Courier font, and the title of the posts will be "Typewriter Thoughts."
Haunting Questions
The will, the want.
The empty regrets of the unknown.
It aches like forever.
I miss that which I do not know and cannot trust.
The past cannot return.
The will, the want.
The empty regrets of the unknown.
It aches like forever.
I miss that which I do not know and cannot trust.
The past cannot return.
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