Dear Diary of Martin X - 09/10/2016

Why is she looking at me funny 

This one's streaked 

with a pink 

Lead 

As thin as the line 

Between a dog and a whale 

That one's gaze 

Surreptitious 

Keeps bumping against the redness of his nose 

Like his glasses fell off

And he didn't notice yet 

Everyone is merging with the ether 

Isn't that a synonym for death? 

Everything will be recorded 

On a block of plastic 

Reiterating the Big Bang 

All our paltry faults 

Will be scattered to the stars

Illuminating the universe 

A variety of Christmas cards 

Frosty patterns on a broken window 

And the hubcaps of a hearse 

With their twinkle twinkle 

Little chrome

She's getting off the metro now 

Going home

Maybe that's why she

Was looking at me 

Our legs are the same colour 

Purple 

Hers and his

As into the tunnel 

The metro 

hurtles

Towards the abyss.

Dear Diary of Martin X 09/10/2016

eight and a half 

I love you too much 

To reveal you like a chestnut 

Peel you back and pop you 

Shining in my pocket 

I love you too much to undress you like an autumn salad 

Put you in my hair 

And cook you 

Like a shashlik

In a snare 

I love you too much to touch you 

Much like 

Claire and Francis 

For example 

We don't want to fondle 

All that skin and sinew

Quaking soft as cotton 

Something in our pip larks 

Will inevitably go rotten  

I love you too much to kiss you 

To glisten to the forbidden 

To put my tongue to your tongue 

Like I used to like to lick 

Those negative positive batteries 

To give myself electric shocks 

I love the taste of currents 

Ripping on my spit 

I love you much too much for that 

Besides, we might not fit

So throw me in reverse

Cos the tenth time we kiss it will all be over 

When we fuck the more the worse.

Dear Diary of Martin X 09/10/2016

impotent yearning 

You are tangible. 

I can wear you. 

Like a tshirt. Or my pants. 

I feel you. In my stomach, 

and my nostrils.

In my blurry, stumbling coarseness;

in my aching joints and itches. 

My words are mere wishes 

I send them like kisses

From the fall of my lips 

To the tips of your breast 

From the source of my gaze

To the fields of your mind 

My yearning will melt, 

like a cloud on the mountain 

And only the dewdrops

And wetness remains 

I love to drown 

In my wishbone caresses 

Alone in the fist 

Of the morning's yolk 

I lost my face

Between the legs of your kisses 

I lick your thighs 

With the flame of my hope 

I am rolling 

Down the hill of your distance

Sliding on cardboard 

Down the thrill of your grass

I want to behold you

All that glitters 

Cut through your vest

With invisible scissors

Fondle your breasts 

Wash my face in your knickers.

Dear Diary of Martin X - 09/10/2016

In bed with your stomach

My legs washed in salt 

My hair full of honey 

I tingle like bluebells 

Pulsate and burn

Radiate warmth 

Like a vast alligator 

Hungry as virtue 

Pumping with jam

When will I hurt you 

With the wool of a lamb 

Cool as a street 

Full as a dance 

Blurt out my wonder 

In a confluence of bodies 

Roll you like thunder 

In a field full of poppies 

In bed with your arms 

My head spun by spiders 

The physical forces 

Of heartbeats arise 

My cock is like David's 

A polished and marble 

Explosion of stardust 

Breaking like a fish

Caught in your stockings 

I dream of your hips 

And I yearn for your toes

The bend in your arm 

Your elbow 

Your nose 

These are the ripples 

Which bellow and rustle 

Like a bullock at the gate

From under my bedclothes  

I'll stay here and masturbate

As the universe flows.