Scavengers In The Antarctic

main capital (some people ...)

fingertips on skin, no butterflies in the belly. No
butterfly kisses on the forehead, chest, hips.
No tongue, and was not looking for anything.
No interlocking arms nowhere.

Inside exchanged glances, including in itself
ears listening to too little,
hands, caressing the little.
tongues that taste almost.

Red spots on the skin
But no sand in the shoe
No sun in the sky
But a solarium on the next side street

No kind words
hardly a smile
No tenderness to go away from lips
only: age, pussy, gay and shit

No love that burns deep into the bone
No pushing, rubbing, gasp, smile
No teeth on a condom packaging
No feet, after falling asleep under the covers protrude

No flowers in the hair
No songs in the car
No common Stroll
No thoughtful silence

No guitar on his back
No The moon is up

No whispers
only roar

No swimming Only in tenderness
boiling longing to the end of the world
No flowing colors between houses and street
only duty and distance, and dry "you!"

Some people died of thirst.