It starts off like a rock flying towards you
No algorithm to predict the speed, to predict the flight
No calculations to be made as you stand dumbfounded
You recognize the impending impact
Brace your muscles
Only hoping it doesn't sting too terribly
That the bruises ware off cleanly

With pens and ink
You scratch a surface with aching fright
torn papers show no signs of the words promised to be revealed in good time

You see ballpoint blood in your veins
Teasing seductive stares, broken by papered fragile skin
Grabbing for a pen you cry out as it bites back in the palm of your hand

Muscles tense
Awaiting impact