sometimes
I understand only  the texture of your words,
the distance of your skin
you curse the silence waiting to be heard
you count the hours of toil like one counts lithium pills
you empty yourself of nothingness
desire links the margins of time
sometimes you make the proverbial schnitzel you remember
how good the *** was on the dining room table
I feel  the bruise of steps, the tiredness of patience
the sharp edges of thought, the easiness of laughter
I keep on dreaming myself going out of the night
somewhere inside the purity of limits like a blade
there is this feeling of you, round
like the time that exhausts its depth
the echo of tears gets lost in your hands,
sometimes