Do you want a name?
I get tired of being the same person all the time.
The fact remains underlined in italics at the top of my mind,
pushing everything downwards:
I can only be myself.
Even touching you
is translated through
my own chemistry,
the electric current
running from the receptors
of my fingers
up my arms
and to my brain,
white washed into a dumb pleasure that I know too well.
Your words can vary, your information can be new
and it excites me for some time,
but soon we progress forward
and I see that it is just old news you managed to express differently--
or else it's not you at all, but someone else you touched,
coming back to me and feeding with your face...