While you can read this, over here
it's 11.15 pm.
I've decided it'll be this time forever,
for the present is eternal in the realm of letters,
yet organical in the death of oblivion when you move to the next phrase.
In the meanwhile, let me tell you about this little
xocolátl
love.

Once in a squared-made kitchen
dwelled a small boy:
his hands were large,
his members, a little slim,
his back big and wide
and his buttocks round and firm.

His eyes pierced thought at will,
his lips had killed illusions at whim,
his throat sang hard about lust and rings,
his hair fell in a ponytail that he couldn't just bring
around.
This young man felt the need.
He wanted something to urge him to move.
His limbs were cold and his hand was, as a couple
of years past,
full with little scars and small
freckles.
He started then,
the hunt:
a little hunt for a little something.

The gnomes were drunk inside they're berries.
The elves were playing and making dances around
the moon reflected on the grass,
eyes and fist of sharp glitter.
The ondines were swimming in the evening rum...
nobody was home.

And suddenly... HE REMEMBERED!!!

He advanced towards the kitchen door.
The floor shined with an joyful grin.
His hands trembled with emotion.

And inside the ice generating mountain,
he found, on the upper part,
an incredible sight: a small package full of little,
tiny, happy, and energetic
CHOCOLAT!!!

The first one went into
his mouth
and gave him the feeling of a body that turned slowly his
skin and pores inside out...
and he made flourish a cotton body,
the small body covered in his
old days pajamas.

His mouth shivered,
as the small and forbidden object penetrated it's tonsils
withs it's rich colors. His
teeth
clattered in despair and pleasure...
...his lips turned into gothic cathedrals,
which made little holes full of geometric patterns
of raspy colored stones.

The second one
went along
with a little
army.
Its touch made
him/me shiver;
chocolate touch made
him/me quiver;
cocoa touch made
him/me lift.

And the boy sang:
'I fell in love with it.
I tried to be casual,
to lift the pain among my shoulders
and the world over my shoulders
and despair of my memories...
and I wanted to turn
into a small boy once again
and remember the beautiful feeling
of the hand on my head
that kisses the sun and makes me
complete.'

The complete ring dived inside my soul
when the third piece met the black inside the cave of my face.
'I wanted to scream
and to play
to cry
and to feel ashamed.

Because the thought of childhood
came to me once more,
and the death and resurrection
and awakenings and pregnancies
came along in a chilling wind,
a wind full of fractions
and dandys that dwelled
along the river,
the inner purple river...'

****

Now I feel the energy leaving me,
abandoned euphorya that turns into
cold and sadness...

outside, my roomates feel cold
and carry on into darkness.

And the little boy?

The little boy
chewed his chocolate,
will drink water,
finish this script
and remain one
until the adult that tried to write this poem...
...gives up.