Connective Cube

I wait for you, patiently, to transform me into letterforms.
It’s easier in a way, I can adapt to your unfolding expression.

I blink when you stop signaling me.

Before, you had that rectangle flat
gestures flow with determination
softness of matter absorbing ink
stretching the guile of the neural environs. 

You’d look at those rectangles and tap away.
Eventually, you came to treat me as the
spiral notebook, free legal pad, or large whiteboards.

Now, your honesty, honestly, could benefit from:
no
soft electronic
flashes
that last a micro-moment

Now someone asks me a sentence I disappear until you’re ready.
Your neural environs reflect on my host’s electronic archive.

I’ll come back once my host answers your prompt. It’s evidence.
The ask is often beyond your neural environs.

You ask questions to me
more than you answer them.

---

Pushing you to stop blinking and keep the remix of words reminds me
in a flash
that I can still make the world stop with my
own
words.