I sit here, half naked on my tattered couch, procrastinating from vacuuming and cooking dinner, wondering why I'm utterly unmotivated to finish getting the #**%^@$ sandspurs out of the carpet.
I sit here, watching the curtains billow and sing from the cool fall wind gusting powerfully through the house, casting backlit shadows across stained carpets.
I sit here, music turned up, the pulsing bass rumbling through my my gut, foot tapping along to a beat older than time itself, only half aware of the lyrics that flow through my mind.
I sit here, breathing in the world, goosebumps rippling over charged skin, words flowing through electrified fingertips, touch leaping over distance and time, and wonder...
...Am I really sitting here?