The easiest thing...

Writing is the easiest thing
in the world for me.
The words flow out without conflict,
without worry, without thought.

More often than not,
my handwriting is too slow for the words,
or the typing speed too fast for accuracy,
frustrating my sense of order and perfection.
But afterwards, I am strangely chilled,
and empty, as if I'm a piece of finger-jello -
without substance.

I try to re-read my words,
trying to reclaim a part of me,
but it doesn't work.
The words don't seem to belong to me.
I walk around, empty and dis-satisfied.
And very definitely cold.
Only after I go out to run,
or take a hot bath, do I feel normal again.

Then I am able to read
what I have put down on paper and think,
"Oh! That is exactly perfect",
and I am content.
.