Hedonism confession

After the smoke clears,

we are left with the awkward silence between two bodies,

We are caught in that fragile moment,

no words are exchanged as

arms and legs intertwined,

skin on skin,

this, you say is what you are most interested in,

what turns me on,

you, as a youngish god,

looking to understand and seek pleasure in the here and now,

I, as the traveler of the universe,

stumbled across your path and we meet.

The stage is set and we find ourselves

dancing between planetary alignments,

the soft folds of bed sheets to cover our bodies as we play pup tent,

After the dust settles,

we walk among the living,

understanding our place in society,

in the sweet moment that family brings us closer to our human self,

yet, I see sadness in your eyes

weariness and exhaustion that go hand in hand with


with life itself,

What turns me on, is

the sweetness that life brings

pleasure that body tactile brings,

pleasure of sharing food with others,

providing more than a daily meal but rather a profound  meeting

of mind, thought and soul,

the moment of clarity when words meet sound and

I am brought to attention,

that silence brings to the table,

I tell you that I am a recovering poet,

the truth of the matter is that I never gave up that addiction,

of being in the moment where words and sound collide as

bodies and pleasure meet on the bed stage,

and I am brought back to life,

poet and traveler,

yearning to close my eyes,

to flip through my past, present and unknown future

as ageless and timeless as

life itself.




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