The voices write the words that spread across the page.
They say what they want, when they want.
I mostly just edit.
Sometimes, the voices chatter like monkeys.
Every so often, they whisper intimate lies.
At times, they explain mystery through symbol.
I never know what to expect.
The written words urge me to rethink
what I thought the voices told me.
Each line leaves me wondering
if my input even matters,
or who will take credit for the impressions
left to posterity.
