Specific

All thoughts are foreign
And also, that memory is an irrelevant term
There is no reference
So there can be no comparison
Then here they come, all flooding in at once
I don’t know what to do
Observing his actions
Seeing him
Evokes ideas that have no abstracts
Miraculously, they leak out
They are flowing from my hands
Dripping from my hair
Somewhere, some part wishes to remember puberty
Becoming a woman
But it is irrelevant
There is no measure of distance
There is no time
Fear comes for small things
Sleep is irrelevant
But it sets upon me while I am unaware
When it comes, I am a slave to it
Not knowing until I wake

The moment I wake
It is irrelevant

And I wake
Stand naked and approach the chairs arranged around the heater
Pull with muscles to raise the arm
Set fingers down on the fabric
Dry
The pale of dawn hinting at an illusion of colour in the shading
Turn to the window
Approach
Look down onto the street
The surface of the road
The building opposite
Not a sound
Turn to observe the apartment
The chairs and the heater
Kitchen
Living space
The pool of dark liquid on the carpet
The man sitting on the floor by the door of the bathroom
Leaning against the wall
Head back
Eyes open toward the ceiling
Blink
Inhale
Exhale
Then he lowers his head and turns to the side
Facing the windows
I turn to view the street
Slowly panning to look along it
A large, black man-shape
Standing in the street
Looking up at me