On the tips of my fingers one singular pressure.
It doesn't hurt after a little while,
It almost feels kind of nice.
Reaching and stretching,
Closing and Shrinking,
Up and down,
Side to side.
Pleas for freedom scream from elbows .
An estranged statue like world is jealous of the side of the world it should not be jealous of.
Tilted to the left I rest my head.
Exposed on the right,
Using my space's full potential.
Amber makes my nose itch and my fingers coarse.
The vibrations I can feel in my soul.
They move through my body.
I can see it.
I can smell it.
I can touch it.
I can feel it.
I can hear it.
A singular position can be beautiful if only for a moment.