I gaze out of the foggy window 

Only at lights and shadows. 

Smudged colors and grey-scales fromulate behind the glass 

I take my cotton sleeve and rub the glass in circles, hoping to create a clear path for vision. 

But to no prevail 

I still cannot see. 

I hear music upstairs 

Through the insulated celiing

Bass, trebe, sax...maybe?

The noise of the keepers abouve me is muffled. 

I open the foggy windo to hear clearer. 

But to no prevail 

I still cannot hear. 

It begins to snow. 

My tongue shrivels when I think of the last I drank water. 

The kitchen is too far

So I stick my head out of the windo for a cool touch of a flake on my sensory beads. 

One after the other falls around me

But onoe reach my mouth

To no prevail

I still cannot taste. 

Leaning in I fall from the foggy stained window

Falling for what seemed like eternity

My body cavity has caved in

Toward the direction of my fate. 

I hot the cold hard ground 

I feel that. 

I see the lights clearer now. 

The shadows aren't shadows

But spectators who watched my flight

That song that I wanted to despereately hear is loud in my ears. 

As if the band has invaded my brain. 

Snow falls all over me. 

And right into the little space that my louth has left available.