Poeticstyle

Poetry is like water, I drink it excessively And speak it like its feather brushing air, “So elegant” Your ears seek comfort of my words to rock you to depravation It’s so elegant sex deprives passion From my syllables passion I am who I am and poetry is my mistress We make words together forever with the freshest lips, And I’m still the only one to have ever kissed her, and made her Verse in hypnotic convulsion Yet I still have yet to reach the minds of her patrons I guess she’s like liquor to the deaf They just can’t handle her words and contradictions.