The Clear Dampness of your Sex

The Clear Dampness of your Face

Are you willing to fill my white spaces? 

Can we conspire, can you force me 

to exhale my infinite hunger of you? 

Must you radiate the thirst of my skin 

through the endless latitudes, the nectars 

of your sex? Am I losing my footing

inside the ruins of this sinister hotel?

When are you hiding these overcast words 

and their meanings?  Who can ignore 

the fear of men knee deep in the turbid 

waters of an ocean guided by the intuition 

of drowned colors?

Ay, mi soledad, 

riddling conundrum 

for the absence 

of figurative speech.