nothing more

i remember it like a dream, not like my dream dreams, but rather a coma, aware of fragments, i dreamed conversations in a language i barely speak, a voice not his, a body locked, face down on a bed, face down on a bed, someone joined me, someone climbed in, physical, so physical, too physical, like a coma, aware of space and orientation, why didn't he wake me, "Because you dreamed it," on my back, staring up, gray ceiling, gray body mildly aching, or was that from earlier, earlier, there was red in the toilet when i let him force his way to places i never go, "Tell me you want it," i heard myself moaning, caught myself moaning, i never moan, who was i, in black i had asked for it, when i returned, i caught him on the phone, earlier, there was a spot the size of a coin that he scrubbed to the size of plate, scrubbed because there was red in the toilet, was there a new spot, i didn't think to feel, i didn't think at all, not even the orientation of the room, the orientation of my clothes, the space of my body, the state of my dream, what if he had woken me, i would have been fine, what if he had admitted to it, would i have been fine, he would have taken, even though he knew not-like-that, "Feel how good," not-like-that, "Drink from your favorite glass," the glass of spots, a memory in spots, a dream in fragments, obsessed by my size, so small, "Tell me your weight," someone else said they'd had enough in a language i barely speak, "No one else is here," he pulled away from me, "Sleep," in the morning, distant, dry, hurting, tears, and the burning of an infection, "Let's try your dream," i paused -- a body locked, face down on a bed, face down on a bed, so physical, too physical -- in the morning, i couldn't say it, i stopped, "Say it, you'll drink it all, swallow it whole," the phone rang and he abruptly pulled out, "Stay here while I buy milk," i don't want to stay, "Wait for me here," i don't want to wait, on the street he turned his face from my kiss, it could have been worse, it might have been worse, i am still alive, alive, alive under a white sun, walking, hot and burning, home, to my home, locked, with no talking, silence and the white noise of air conditioning, i had only dreamed it, it was only a dream, my dream, and nothing more...