PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

How does it ever feel...



When you...

Take a breath and just...

Close your eyes.

Exhale a mound of oxygen.

Undo these locks again

And blow across the board the chalk dust that resides

In lungs inside...



When you...

Touch yourself in every single corner of your book.

Starting with the preface...

Move your fingertips up to the essence of your climaxed plot.

Sigh back all the chapters in a vapor cloud of sins

And slide right back into the shelf where you can melt

After you've reached the novel end

And felt... dealt... your needs a straying hand

That lingered in... fingered... words beneath your clothes and paragraphs?



When you...

Disregard the audience

For a second...

Run a lip over the microphone

And whisper all the wants that beckon...

Seconds at a time...

Pausing intermittently

To catch those tiny airs

That keep you

Short on

Breathing

But

Alive and bare...

When you... slip off every shoe

And hug your feet upon the stage right there?

Wooden... cool...

Gets to you and mmmm...

Sweats for you...

Yeah... how that passion gets to you.

Upright... bare...

Move a little here and there...

Turn your stance into a walk...

Into a prance...

Into a full-blown dance

Like you don't fucking care...

And spin a pirouette of naked fairy tales

Before you fall

Into the backdrop painted with a lake of your mistakes

And you can drown beneath the water sounds.

Indulge in every fault you make...

And swim around...

Tell me what you found

And what is left...

...Cause as of now

I've had my eyelids down

To pen this tale so wet...

And short on breath

Like you wouldn't believe...