Virginia wolf once said 'writing is like sex.'
and Writing and I are dating for years now
and today I chose to
(I )kneel down before my desires,
wishing to intertwine words,
sneaking the random ideas urged
I try to give whatever it requires
unclothing my vulnerabilities
reasoning my torment liabilities.
With each sliding gentle metaphor
off my shoulder
caressing my hands,holding my fingertips,
I assembled my guts to let it begin.
Breathe.
I half hide my scars, smile throughout
with a lusty ache and a frozen stomach
Sensing all my nerves,
My lips quiver
quiver in tune to the symphony of my wildly silent heart.I let it kiss scattered.Messy.
I let it even on days it feels like sin
My soul dancing, fantasies agreeing to be physical , on rainy days more special, corners reserved for it.
I hide it all,words preserve for it
It ignites a fire within
making me scream words unincluded
With strokes of ink all painted verses,
I find pleasure
thousand thunderous roar of emotions reigning at once
trying hard to find solace in the cry,
I let it pain a little more.
Looking forward to fill the void
where my spirit try to hide
An impression that lasts long
Ravelled boosted intimacy
My thoughts seem so passionate
Thrusting into me all faded memories
forgetting humanly i act animate
My diary swallowing all it with warmth
buried somewhere deep into table only I know
With a last lusty look of admiration
promising thought of coming again
comes after a brutal peace.