The Poetry Marathon

In serenity I sit
While birds sing their praises to the sky
A light breeze passes, curling my lips into a smile
The sun presses on my tan skin warming my bones

I am staring at you

From across the room

Your lips are parted

Revealing a smile

That i fell in love with

The moment our eyes met

Chemicals running

Through my needing body

Felt in my deep core

It would be cliche to say that we fit together

Like a puzzle piece

But i dont know how else to decscribe the way

Our bare bodies mesh and melt

Fingers interlocked

Like your lips on mine

Our limbs tangled,

pulling eachother closer

Feeling your anatomy mixing with mine

It would indeed be a cliche

But baby, we fit together so well

I made it

It is done

24 in 24

and so I bid thee adieu

until we meet again

I don’t know which was is up

or down

or anywhere for that matter

my eyes burn

my body aches

and I am ready to fall helplessly in love with sleep

I feel drained, itchy, crawling out of my skin

but I wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything

it takes a certain kind of badass to write 24 poems in 24 hours

Hour 23 staring at me in the face

I have my game face on, though my body feels like I am crumbling like ancient ruins

Dearest Poets,

The Night Is For Sleeping.

Not writing, or dreaming, or thinking.

The night is not for wild-eyed dreamers whose thoughts wreck havoc.

The Night is For

Star-crossed lovers who take their lives or for those who are faint of heart

The Night is

Not for those with racing daydreamers

Or Neverland and Peterpan

The Night

welcomes the misfits, the poets, the outsiders

The…

I’ll concede, I will show you mine if you show me yours

But I promise when I open myself up, there won’t be anything pretty living inside

nothing you will want to take home to your parents

or display on your wall

or in front of your friends

I promise there won’t be flowers or sunrises

There won’t be oos and ahhs that will drop you to your knees

But a certain darkness that might seduce you

Disguised as poetry, wet sticky words

attached to my core

waiting to picked and displayed for you

I will show you mine, but I dont think you will like it

It is the middle of the night

and hearts are breaking all over the world

the bars have closed

and the drunks have walked home, shed their skins, and passed out on delicious pillows

the night is slowly going to sleep

and I am wide awake

flirting with disaster

I should be writing a poem

but all I can think about is you

and the way your lips taste

the sound of your voice

that echoes in the deepest corners of my soul

and I am craving you

every single fiber of your body

meshing with

every single fiber of my body

It is hard to concentrate when you have Adonis on the brain