Wasted

There are two few letters on myp keyboard and another time might mourn mmy finger's passing my misttype tonguelines tripped and wandered over clatter keys with one too few letters and symbols and unequivocally there notes and sings and zebra striped extractionsmock and mange the hallowed folds and I have used them all now.  I have used each and every sound  and crept in twos and threes and multiples and manifolds until the chimney weeps me up and out and I mispelt everything today and tomorrow and my hadnds dont remember thir right way and my veined hands dont recall the proper punctiuation or spelling or clatterstep is that the right work dclatterstep and another thousand tyupose from now where each hand strikes independent and loud and makes neat choreography on the clatterboard I possess another virtue, the virtue of distraction the virtue of you will always know the right name for this gift that I am ungiving and taking away the last words will leave you with just myp own and my own fingers formulated into refuse, language clutter and chaff