Orders Muddled Up Poem by Michael Witkowski

This floor under my back
it touches me in few spots
a cushion it can be- as
i lie staring at the ceiling
relax the muscles is the order
but i twitch and listen to the
voices and streams inside-

are they fast, are they cool
are they warm- leg you shall obey!
feel the warmth flushing softly
leg, sink into the floor, now, now!
my orders circulate between
the control & info desk and
executive members - legs

somewhere in the itch and twitch
the orders got lost- supervisor
supervise the flow of orders! Now!