When the words don’t come

by Aki Schilz

I am

a cyber quadriplegic.

All limbs in place but

virtual appendages dangling lifeless as

the plastic wires that wind their way around

the humming machine;

engine running but

cerebral cortex copperthick with sleep.

Database: Medusa. Vibrating with

knowledge of a thousand things

programmed into

alternating currents whilst,

snakelike,

synapses snap amid

Soft Ware, Hard Drives and

Micro Chips.

Gentle buzzing says it’s running but

all

parts

are

dis

-connected.

I am

Typeless.

Thought suspended, delays on the transcript line

derailed between

two brains

short…

c-c-circuiting. My

inner monologue encrypted into symbols

trapped in fingers

hovering over keys like

cymbals shivering in the still air, waiting

to feel the imprint of flesh

embedded on the keypad

pumping out like sighs

Q-W-E-R-T…Y

Cyphers stubbornly resist

Decoding,

Instead, they twist and turn,

strain, but remain

unarticulated.

Words half-formed creep forth only to

retreat quickly

in rhythm to the cursor that flashes

in front of the unwritten word; an electronic heartbeat.

One lonely mark on a page that

gapes empty

Metronome tick,

flick,

steady.

wordless.

 

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