  box (by deav) Rio, Mai-Jun 2003 (exposed) i’m packed up in a concrete box wrapped up in paint, dust and wire i can only see a little piece of sky is that the sun, that ball of fire? the vicious sickening choking air comes in with a scary roaring sound the phantom blinding cold lights hurt the eyes that roll around we’re the box people we crawl from box to box we’ve become boxes ourselves where we lock up our hearts… there are others here with me buried in piles of paper i’m cuffed to my chair we’re the screaming boxes can’t you see? but no-one fucking seems to care we’re the box people… * * * 
