Like a moving chest
without inhale,
Like a conversation
without a speaker,
Like a daydream
without fantasy,
Like a zoomed-out image
with blurred peripheral.

It's like walking
on air,
not sure of why
you aren't falling.
It's like the end of
a movie,
when you're no longer sure
to whose reality
you belong.

There is a glass wall
between my consciousness
and the words you speak to me.
I walk through hallways and streets;
people see me,
but I am able only to perceive shadows.

I surprise myself by responding,
by functioning;
please prove to me
that I am alive.