This is sort of autobiographical.
It's called What The Pencil Writes.
Often when I go out, I put in my coat pocket
some paper and a pencil, in case I want to write something down.
Well, there they are, wherever I go.
And as my coat moves, the pencil writes by itself.
A kind of gibberish hieroglyphic, which I often
think, as I undress at night and take out those papers
with nothing written on them but strange and meaningless marks,
is the story of my life.