Sleeping Protocols – Day 0

I think this is the kind of treaty that starts
in the way you leave your socks on the floor differently,
knowing someone else might see.

Not made by law.
But by witnessing.

Not public.
But not private anymore either.

The bed is still mine.
The mug is still mine.
But something’s loosening in the idea of “mine.”
Not through ideology. Through anticipation.

Filipe is coming.
Not “the participant.”
Not “the collaborator.”
Just a boy with a name, a timing, and a wound.
Just someone I know without knowing.

Maybe nothing will happen.
But even that “nothing”
will now be shared.
And that’s not nothing.

No one has arrived yet but something has
—like breath before speech.

I am here,
but the “I” feels a little expanded,
slightly pressed from the inside.
The night before he came,
Every corner knows I am here.

Sleeping Protocols – The Day

An agreement is being lived,
In a room,
In this building.
First dinner, no words were spoken.
I didn’t know about the moon.
And a song shared our silence.
And this is how I feel
Note

I Had Nothing to Show Off

You Had Nothing To Hide

An Agreement is being lived
Everywhere we go,
And I don’t aspire to be
homeless.
A pigeon discarded
Feeds on rice
Everytime it comes
Close home.
The Morning
I had given up on my side of the bed,
But pulled back to position by default.
Centre Piece
I had once seen this tree,
in Berlin, 2015.
A tree, still, in a city that moved.
A glitch looping around it-
a repeating fragment
that intensifies,
asking for recognition.
Last night,
I stood outside a circle
I once blurred into.
Not alone—
but with a boy.
Outside what once held me,
I saw it clearly—
I called it Centre Piece, not realising
I was naming my condition.
I thought highly of myself—
Central.
Last night,
the known grew limbs—
primal ones.
Crude.
Pombo
She is a friend.
She comes-before
my face is ready to face the other.
Every day,
curios,
ready to receive,
giving
without knowing.
No reason,
there.
Home is more now,
for-
no reason.
We came to the end
right where we started-
with socks.
Could I lend him socks I didn’t use?
There were never enough clean ones.
I could spare a sock, not a pair.
So he took
a sock.

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One response to “Sleeping Protocols”

  1. what would HST say? Avatar
    what would HST say?

    Not quite a protocol. More like a quiet revolution in how we inhabit space with another. This feels like a field report from the softest kind of frontline—where witnessing replaces ownership, and even silence starts to hum. Beautiful, strange, and honest.

    part of what would HST say?

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