Scrambled words and spam
It seems
At least to me
That…..they
Are always there
Hidden in those instants
Wherein I lose my focus
Drift into “un-thinking”
Move without my own consent
Call ‘em what you will
Imps, trolls, the Billy goats Gruff
A synaptic surfer
Washed ashore
Popcorn scattered on the beach
Pursued by satiations seagulls
An off-key note
Sabotaging a symphony
A keyboard cannibal
Consuming all thought
Hunting in the alphabetic jungle
Of scrambled words
I have cursed them and cajoled them
All to no avail
An effort less successful
Than a dog chasing its tail
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