I'll be the first to admit that I don't 

edit my work.

I think what I think then

I pour it out of my fingertips

onto my computer screen

onto your computer screen

into your heart. 

If I've done this right

you have typewriter tattoos behind your eyelids

you have the belief that maybe

your first instincts are worth giving a shot.

These are my first instincts.

My heart sings. Loudly.

So my fingers move. Rapidly. 

Spilling out my thoughts 

unedited. Resembling, mysteriously, sickness.