Ghostwritten

clever words curl from the tongue of my pencil

I am minded of a presence at my shoulder,

an entity I cannot identify, a strange sense

silently holding space there, out of sight

I do not fear it, am intrigued

but wonder if my words are being shaped,

are being crafted wittingly

by this subliminal visitation,

eventually of course I crack

and push back my chair

expecting a resistance,

there’s none but the spell is broken,

the words liquify and reform

unrecognisably, they are not mine

they lock me out

and bid me publish or be damned

Published by grahamrsherwood