late night ramblings

A sense of nothingness, the lonesome writes
There's no reception, nothing received nothing comes back
To glare at so many men that look and smile
And smile smile back and talk to this one and that one
And wait for a response, not from the articulation of their mouth but from their senses
Something beyond the eyes that look, the body that wants
To wait for a response to another connection
And look and touch and want even
And it's sometimes like having that awkward conversation with a stranger who knows you
But you can't remember who the stranger is
The broken thoughts
You don't receive an answer back beyond the words spoke, the gesture of want
Yes, we're men and bodies react to bodies
But the connection is broken ha ha
Feels like the wrong number has been dialed
But now you have to engage in polite chat
And you wait for the response that goes beyond what the eyes see, the hands that touch
And nothing, nothing comes back
There's no reception, nothing's received, nothing comes back
Except for the pleasure of the wantom bodies
There's no other energy to connect to
And once you know how it feels, nothing else will do ... Alas!! Ha ha