I have distance

I have distance from my self. I am able to hold out my hand where I see the palm and its heel and converging lines all the way to slight grey veins that begin to fan out and wrap outward and the hand sits atop the small silhouette of an apartment building with a broad roof that extends even slightly beyond the reach of my thumb. In moments of approaching my own body I see a wrist at the base of my hand giving route to veins that blood may return to the heart. I hold my hand at a distance at which the distance is drawn out of me. I see the expanse which has left me in the plains to reassemble my self stretched out across my forearm the visualization of which has made me to feel cohesive. The apartment houses swirl up the hills around blind corners and lights devour the expanses outside my body and between my body and the apartments and between the apartments and the hill and the road which ties them yet the route of which may lead me to return only to another barren patch of soil not suitable to sleep within.