I’m writing this for you Annie,
and I’m writing it with bipolar keys
in rapid speed.

They remain stale in the air. Impatiently waiting
in the glow of the low-lit-monitor. Their purpose
undefined without action.

It’s only for a moment they feel weightless,
harvesting energy - exploding upwards.
Their screams of ecstasy muffled by the resonance
of my key-connecting-finger-snaps.  

Keys in rapid speed.