The Desire

The Desire

A quarter to midnight

(… and warming up) >> remove!

one.

I can feel its smell arriving

I lift the eyelid of my self and

allow me heading for an unknown

area

while observing

its dedication

its movement

heading for the silvery horizon

I move on

hands behind the back

sand-like

but not yet.

The virgins quench them selves

on the left and on the right

glitteringly atop little pieces of hysteria – the color of milk, but cream

far, far away
the sea
with nothing to lose
repeats, desperately
until one inconceivable

exhaustion

I feel, its

odor arriving – water-like

at my

warm

faces

and the virgins loosen them selves and rise spreading light and sand

cloud-like, of so

dense, white

and high

two.

Lightweight

tottering
voracious
I get torn apart by a cry of happiness that I can't
break

three.

Nothing, it was nothing
I say to myself and repeat 

without realizing
the meaning
of nothing

(they were just some virgins
passing by – bewildering me
with their warm tips)

© José Coelho, 2015
Original 1st draft 15-June-2007