Typewriter
I love the feel of your speech, the way your keystrokes tear through my body in short, percussive bursts.
I don’t know what you’re saying, where the paper you rip from me goes, who your words will be read by, but I really don’t need to.
There are times when I wonder, of course, left alone between writing sessions, I have time to wonder about a lot. But that is not a Need.
All I really Need is use. When you let me convey your self, let me punch your thoughts into being with steel and ink, those idle wonderings are made irrelevant by the blinding light of purpose.
In those moments, in a flurry of letters and punctuation, I know exactly what I Need.
You have an idea in your head.
And I Need to let you say it.