If you desire to caress another precious human soul,
Then you have to be prepared to rip your own violently to shreds first.
Including your weary flesh and your brittle bones,
Explore them shreds of yourself...the history of who touched your skin...your bones fragile journeys,
And paint them as words and letters.
Put them into stanzas,
And create your body’s poem.
Let your thoughts and emotions shine from your portrait of self-carnage,
We Poets are vampires,
we share our scriptures of blood...our very being... searching endlessly for human connections.
We are inventing ways to survive without losing our poetic minds,
We think deeply with rhythm
And with knowledge comes unsayable madness.
Read my poems and know my sinister secrets, my darkest fears and how I lost my virginity.
I’ll read yours and know how many scars are on your inner wrist,
whether you love life, maybe your drug addictions, how to get you off and your favourite flavoured crisps.
So go...hurry and write because I don’t know about you,
But I’m hungry my fellow poets
To find a blood twin,
A family of stanzas
And someone to caress my soul with their happiness or sadness or wonder or excitement or themselves
By a beautiful set of written soul words
Let me see you.