So many poems were written today - of songs, and love, and gratitude, and friendship and community, and wholeness, and soul. However, this is the one which got committed to paper, and it, of course, is also true.
"Yom Kippur"
Sometimes I am so lonely and so full of longing
That I am longing, encased in a tight, dry skin.
And what if that's true for many of us?
What if our frantic couplings
are just the frottage
of sarcophagi?
Hoping to fuck so hard,
so fast, that we catch fire,
burn the cases and fronts, and
let out the kindred spirits
inside?
c. 2013 m.sachs.martin
