life's not enough

what's left to do when there's no dream anymore, the dream of a valuable communication, when the person you want to confess don't ever want to hear it, and that you notice few people can hardly match up your passion and only through sensual desires, one night of touching then the void, an enjoyable language which can't last, so vain, that communication can also be my turf, but to me it's not more important than the other forms, those most people don't feel, they are awkward to express, they don't know what to enjoy, what to say, because they don't know what makes them feel, outward of a hand on their skin, i can be that hand, i can focus on the primal passion to worship the other's body, the great arousing, then it's only cinder, cinder and desolation, for me, because words miss them, the passion of something immaterial, the passion to want and really know oneself and the other, outside of the spiral, where there's no fear and all sharing is good, all reflections create the bond, and though i feel unsatisfaction, too many are too far behind, what's insufficient in most is the power to be interested, even if they don't know, just showing that they want to know.