Three-quarters of the bed belongs to you, and
three-quarters of the bed belongs to me, so
there must naturally be some overlap, some
point in which we occupy the same space.
This place can either be a place of contention, or
a breathing space together, a face-to-face space.
It can be a place for melting together, or invasion,
a place for a game of space invaders, or a place where
each in each is buried alive but breathes, not
suffocating, but finding a new way to breathe
in each other. Or it can be a place of trespass, as in
you’re sleeping in my space, you’re squashing my
life out of me, you’re removing my room, you’re
crowding me out. Three-quarters of the bed belongs to
each? Not true. All of the bed belongs to each, and
each beaches in each other, and reaches harbour.