from the inside
I look out of,
the frosted windows 
of my eyes

I'm swimming 
in my own skin.
in the same way one 
might swim in a shirt 
three sizes too large

I'm cold but, 
I don't seem to care. 
actually I do, 
it sparks curiosity in me,
my own discomfort
comforts me

I'm more interested 
in the sensation of the smooth glass
underneath my fingertips 
than the discussion around me

I'm calm. movement 
makes me sad.
I'm content just not moving,
my back bent and 
frozen against the cold metal 
of the locker,
my foot falling asleep 
from the awkward bend of my leg,
my *** quickly losing 
sensation, unnerves me

I'm not happy and
I don't know why.
I'm disconnected from the world 
but I have not retreated into a fantasy.
still half asleep 
but not yet dreaming.
an observer to my own body, 
my sensations and the world around me