In Blackness, Without Sound

step inside and shut the door.
sealed in darkness and in warmth.
floating independent of foundation and wall.
simply existing by the sense of touch-
terry nubs soft and thick,
linen and merino wool.
the softest skin against my skin
in blackness, without sound.


written after a trip in my closet. I was super preoccupied with the idea of losing existence when only you can sense yourself (hearing your own breath, feeling your own body) and how people only really exist because we can sense them. my closet can be pitch black once you shut the door, so if someone else is in there with you, you have to rely on touch, sound, and scent to manifest them. Also, there are of course tons of clothes in my closet that created an overload of a single sensory experience. I really do recommend this kind of personal sensory experiment. You never realize the pleasure of your senses until you isolate and appreciate them.