November 15/04
A curve
and the feminine scent
are enough
appease sadness
a mouth, a caress, some groan
a nipple in your tongue awakes you in kindness
You are not you
forlorn misunderstood
philosopher, artist or lonely madness
only a panting slave of the senses
wild, trembling, berserk, tender
yearning appendage that enters
El Matallana