Decontextualized

i am my only
frame of reference,
i swallowed the world
when it wasn't looking,
my edges are hazy, my outline blurry,
i exist only provisionally.

my feet are inventing
where i am going,
my hands are molding
what i am touching,
you are a drawing
inside my eye. how lonely.

unseen, untouched
unheard and unspoken,
i'm hanging by threads
of my awareness;
i'm writing myself
into a poem.