READ ME

What a delicate web of deceit

we weave

when we choose to speak

or is that not

let are thoughts be none we must

let the words out

choose what we choose to say

and not

whose feelings we spare

whose feeling we choose  not too

whether we let them read , or are thoughts are found by accident , by those not meant to read are words

they read

said in accident  or not

we choose

we write them

or just speak them without something to read

it matters not if t we choose to think

but when we speak them

give them voice

sound of are voice

it matters more

we breathe the same air

smell the same sense  of a place

are sense of touch

the possibility of it

all these inflections we add from the source

us

a writer ill be I decide

words read  without my even being there

If I have need  of a those inflections, only live person can bring

I think will become a playwright yes

words read by another I writer

have my voice spoken

no a screen writer, just voice and sound

a record of my voice spoken by others

and acted from

My words