Receipt Poem

held down by the pen
tip, grouded by
the pencil, I fell
ill from the computer
screen and sought
healing in the form
of handwritten wit
to be played like
a piano when I
finally got to typing
it.
Read like listening
to a song you wanted
to make a nation
out of it and scan
my wrtiing as the
National Language. I
staged a coup until
you didn't know what
to do.