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.