You go into your apartment and lie down on the floor in your room.
Clothes, books, garbage, and drawings all over the floor.
A museum you’ve created.
The hard carpet smells comforting.
A cologne you’ve created.
Balled-up bathtowel beneath your head.
A pillow you’ve created.
You lie there smiling.
Considering that it comforts you.
And considering that you’re a perfectly guarded person, unsure of what’s being guarded.