Ink Slipping

Ink slipping

Slipping on a page,

Letters sliding into words

As sentences are made.

The hand twitches

From the pen’s force,

With a mind of it’s own,

The instrument shifts the author’s course.

With a jerk

Unexpected phrases fly.

The stark white paper

Has grown black with time.

The writing has taken over

And should that be surprising?

All writers know despite what they plan

A little different is the end they’re finding