Just a Lifeline

This is just a lifeline.
It’s only saying words.
A connection to the mainstream,
written, but unheard.
At least, the words are only spoken
in the recess of a mind
where the voice has lost the reason
and the sanity unwinds.

Just a lifeline.
Some kind of shouting hush.
A way of keeping company
in a crowded mental crush.
Murmurs on the paper,
and wandering monologues.
Lines of staggering hieroglyphs,
guard sentinels and dogs.

It’s not important, like a heart attack,
there’s no victim of the sounds.
Not even really punishment,
it’s just releasing hounds.

© Frank Prem, 1999

A very early attempt to define writing, by a very junior writer.

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