Isolation

Don't just call me unusual, Spend a day in my head. Don't talk to me. Sit in silence with me. Your world isn't my world. Sitting on the sofa, is my world. My tea, sat on its coaster is my world. A dredge of voices keeps me silent. A fear of hearing torn words stretches my understanding. I am pregnant with inertia. My birthing has no due date and I experience no feelings of growth, just a barren, desolate contour around me. 'Get out', you say. 'Meet others', you say. 'My mind gets out', I say. 'My mind has conversations', I say. I am comfortable in smelling only me. Tasting only my lips. Touching only my body. Belonging, only to me. If my world is cold, I can't feel it. If my world is isolated, I can touch it. If it is bitter, I can't taste it. If it is noiseless, I can hear it.