latent(e) on Mercers Road
Pillows, flat sheet, duvet cover, duvet of the day.
My bed is my island.
The dream of a grown boy. My dream. Your dream.
An upside down that ends on the inside. An inside inside out, becoming space, becoming land, becomes a tent.
A tent designed for the forest, for the wilderness, for primitive lands. This tent is a territory.
This territory is I, you, one, the other.
You are poking your head inside it. You are lying beneath the duvet, nice and warm.
You relax.
You breath.
You sniff and smell.
There is a stranger, a road already travelled. It remains there. It might be new partner,
You feel hot skin, the marks of loneliness, the remains of passion, nothing, nearly nothing, everything.
You fantasize.
You take an adventure, the adventure of otherness in which the outside becomes your own.
This is a story of possession, the struggle for territory, of limits.
Why struggle? Everything is confused.
The boundaries of the body have evaporated. I feel good. It is here. I can smell. It makes a sign. I breath it. I met it. It stays inside me, now.
I’m not scared anymore.
Tomorrow?
A new back-and-forth.