Typewriter Series #3077 | 4.22.21

Sometimes this is what it is to be me. Sometimes this is my mind, an autistic mess of a thing that slams against the walls that this world builds, not understanding I wish to enter, not understanding that if let in, I will try my best to make things better. I war against myself, and I do so often, I don’t mean to do this, but I do it, and then feel exhausted when the battle only I’ve fought has ended, if for a time.

We are people made of a million different parts, we are allowed this, we are allowed to battle against ourselves, war with pieces perhaps long since quiet inside. We are allowed to do this thing called life however we wish. I hope we see this. Also, stay tuned for the big Signal Fire changes in frequency, format, etc. I’m working out the best way to hit all the marks for all of you beautiful souls, working on tweaking what’s free, what’s the fun extras behind the tiny little paid subscription wall, all that good stuff. Changes are afoot, and I’m excited as hell for what’s to come. For you, and for me. If you dig this Typewriter Series poem, let me know in the comments below! I’d love to start discussions based on the poems, and I’d love to answer any questions you may have about the writing of them!

All fire and impact and

the frivolous nature of siege.

My mind, a battering ram 

against the locked gates

the world constructs,

shaking bridge over moat

and stone.  

I wail at the oil and pour,

dance aflame when

fire meets it, 

I shout against solid oak

and convince myself

of cracking board,

of eventual entry.

Stand on the ramparts

and watch the war

against myself,

throw down a rope

and let me 

climb.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

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