My feet are cold

like the ground outside lightly sprinkled in the snow

from the day before

my thighs are hot and stick together 

the heat from my laptop

a lack of proper ventilation

and clinging wet socks

those are the worst

adhering to the soles of my feet

slimy and wet

cold and clinging

I’m clinging onto you

and my laptop isn’t the only thing 

burning into my thighs

I feel like the snow outside

cold

but inside I’m burning

and you like to watch

as I sift through millions of thoughts

my eyes dart

and you watch

you watch me

clinging to my train of thought

forcing me to feel

forcing me to acknowledge things I would rather not

and much like my wet socks

it makes me uncomfortable

I should probably examine the reasons why

and build an understanding of my clinging wet socks

and burning thighs

but in a similar fashion to bartleby the scrivener

i would prefer not to.