Today's Napowrimo prompt inspires us to write about an unspeaking thing that has still somehow shared a message.
the television is a squawk box,
plunders words from friends and foe
alike. i, myself, know something of
that feeling. no words have been my
own for longer than i can remember.
and yet, here i am still spewing the
lines, just like my friend with the
antennaes, tracking the otherworld's
waves or electrical firings
and spitting them to me
to repeat to the world
while both of us never say
anything at all.
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