Poetic Kryptonite

This is for those who have and know what I speak of in regards to Poet's Kryptonite--
Remembering Mz Sick Prose's I fell in love with a god once

by  blazeredflame
I fell in love with a poet once,

And it was deeper than any amount of verses on a scroll,

Emotions went beyond the need of literary ink transfusions for survival

Willing to trade words for sentences spilling into pools of de-oxygenated liquids libations of dark blue ink that could only be meant by he for me

Love became an action word turned into an adverb, redefined into a synonym and i could not pause the exhilarating feeling like commas or end it like periods, but continued like fiendish ellipses.

It was like a breath of fresh air puncturing the lungs and connecting the vocal cords as he sucked verbatim out of me redirecting the esophagus only to breath him and him only
Connecting the plug directly to the stimuli of my brain as he became controller of my most intimate desires

Combining pens and poetry into collabo-etry felt like earth wind fire and water combining to be a metamorphosed element.

Fictional Non-Fiction

The mental incitement was as juicy as biting into forbidden fruit that with every
dedicated thought
bronze less

"He became my voodoo priest and I his faithful concubine"-Jill Scott

As I could feel every consonant and every vowel he performed onto bare flesh
As perplexing as the message being printed,

Syllables screech as quill scrapes into skin

To speak in literature in order to take another step into the opening of stretched out pages allowing the poundings of thoughts to puncture the dream of metaphysical mounds being man handled

I fell in love with a poet once and it was magical like Mary Poppins type imagery
Rhythmically rotating pens into rolls of masterpieces as I dreamed of perfect prose of where his feet would. Step next.

Until my brain storming began to rain as I gave the best stanzas I could spew and swallowed phrases. The clouds of my melodramas grew heavy and thick.

Super powers falling into the fog. Silenced. Aching throbbing pens tumbling down as thunder rolled.

I...had...nothing left...

I fell I. Love with a poet result in it being my friendliest foe...

Poetic Kryptonite

©DISorientedDIVA 2012