words

wide eyed circumference,
a squeaking ceiling fan
and unused human parts,
the longing for touch,
taste, sound, lust,
for anything to feel human,
to feel like a man
prepared to break down mountains
with a shattering clenched fist,
a look of passion
or a word to halve helixes,
anything other than this
tired slow withdrawal from contact
like a spoonfed geriatric
dreaming of the olden days.

-S.C. Martinez