I'm not writing for you,
you reader.
How could I?

I'm not writing to prove
myself.  I know already.

I'm only writing.  

To tell the pen to
work.  To tell the cursor
to never blink a breath.
To tell something I cannot
tell the disappointed clerk,
or disillusioned worker,
or disheartened lover.

To write.  To add
permanence to an
otherwise irretrievable
thought that will be lost,
I know it will,
like the passion,
the illusion,
the heart.