You are
delicious
And I am
greedy.
You are
generous
And I am
needy.
You are
experienced
And I am
learning.
You are
flammable
And I am
burning.

Touch me,
it doesn't matter where
and it doesnt matter how
I need to know I'm still alive
so someone touch me now
Shake my hand and say hello
or pat me on the back
kiss me on the cheek
that I may feel this sense I lack
slap my face and pull my hair
make me bleed I just don't care
dig your nails into my skin
so I can feed this need within
I've been numb for such a time
that even pain would be sublime
so touch me, touch me now
I don't care where, I don't care how

waiting for a moment
of truth and touch and tongue
running outside atmosphere
being blood and young

would that we were open to
the touch and taste of what is true
and soft and hard against our skin
that is outside and in and in

skin polished
with oils, salt and husks
i gleam
with perfumed butters and musk
silken smooth flesh
like living warm honey
i languish
in the golden light of dusk
limbs naked
under silks and plush
i wait

i wait for you

i came home,
all my posters
were
hanging off
the
sterile
egg-shell
painted walls
so i laid down
and
allowed my
eyes to close.

i ate too much
for four days just
because i had a memory
of wanting
to eat
too much.

so i did.

now there're
all these stories
that i at one point
experienced
but now they're
only stories
and i don't
tell them
that well.

and i wonder to
myself,
about a lot
of things,
but one
is how long it
will take before
i fix the posters
on my wall.

we're all just humans
in this
paper thin
onion skin
stretch of humanity.

and more than that!

we're all alive
in this
whirlpool
world
of everything
just being.

and so, with that,
i can celebrate
that my eyelids
rest on my eyes
when i sleep at night.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

some people think they got a lot,
when all they got,
are children that hate them quite a lot.

your house won't save you.
your finely pressed slacks won't save you.
your tan, ageless wife won't save you.

some people think they got a lot,
when all they got,
is hunger nonstop.

your bill of rights won't save you.
your republican party won't save you.
your daddy of great renown won't save you.

some people think they got a lot,
when all they got,
is circular plot.

your ****** won't save you.
your tax deductible donation won't save you.
your patience in line won't save you.

some people think they got a lot,
when all they got,
are a few friends at a future funeral.