It's 540PM.
I'm out of class around 645PM.
The to get my grocery shopping done by 730PM.
Home at 8PM.
If I can eat, I'll be done by 810PM.
820PM... oh, 820PM.
That's when I call GV8.
That's when I step outside this circular track we've placed ourselves in.
That's when I tell him I'm disappearing until I can handle him again.
If I ever will be able to.
About Me
- Poetry of Flesh
- Los Angeles, CA, United States
- Love Sonnet XI
Pablo Neruda
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me,
all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
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