writing box

I inch myself
In
Carefully

(I fit tight
In this box)

Controlled
Feet crossed over each other -
So.
And slide in at a slight
Angle,

So i fill it
All up and then

Then this is easy!

Four solid sides
And contained space,

And colours that
Will not change under my
Feet and pins and needles
Because of...


Not. All this mess
These strands i cannot find
(Let alone tie)

And the people i cannot
Look at
Let alone touch

And the floods and
Floods of words
That arrive uninvited. And in nonsensical orders.

So i inch myself
Into my pink and green writing box slowly.
And i will sit - to write -
And the words will arrive sedately.
Politely.
One at a time.