I am on the other side of a glass.
I am insensible.
I am set upon this chair.
This pen is in my hand,
resting against the space between its barrel and my skin.

My window is a television.
It is a stage, it is a set,
the world is a scene that I watch,
and I wonder where the exit is.
If I could step through it, I could touch things
with double-thick skin.