Poetry Break: Tongues

You got that torturous nature about you. Love to slowly drive me to the edge of my skin, the beginning of all sin, and slide me back in time with that desperately, slow, deep, stroke. It wakes me out my sleep, and confines my mind to the moments I speak directly to God.

While you ease my spirit into confession and English is no longer an audible language, save your birth name escaping. As my flesh rises to its end, and your breath walks down my spine, and my legs tremble. As every muscle attempts to flee, my Christian mind swears this must be against God. The way it’s taught.

This is what turns women into whores; love sick like crack addicts in search of this fix. There is not enough air to sustain such breaths, to endure such depth. Confused at how you cause tingles in flesh as every neuron awakes, unbeknownst to their slumber, and sets fire that roars from phalanges to crown. And drowns out all noise to eardrums as angels clap like thunder in the presence of the divine.

This must be gifted from heaven. For God so loved the man he gave me you. That I might praise him unconditionally at your urging, and the insistence of your fingers in my hair. As these two become one, one marvelous stroke after another. As I cease to exist to earth, merely bosons and quarks speeding through the universe. Crashing and collapsing onto myself. In the midst of incomprehensible white matter function. My grip insufficiently clutching these sheets.

I thank him for his glory. Tongues flow from my chest. I surrender to my inadequacies, and pray that my essence bless you indeed. Living waters escape this vessel, and baptize you in the sea of milk and honey that flows from my bosom. As we writhe in his anointing.

The ligand key to my locked receptor. Inception of vibrational deprivation, in the absence of these resonant frequencies; set air locked wheels in motion. Dancing in his grace, by his grace that I should know and understand such pleasure. Psychosomatic interactions absent from my body present with the Lord each time you lay hands on me.

Exercise all insecurities, and pray in concerted forgiveness for this sin, of unwed entangled flesh. Yet and still praise him from days one thru seven created in this short hour. Words do not return us void, yet blessings abound and escape. Such excess that it cannot be contained, from Ibrahim to Abraham. Fearless valleys, and slowly moving mountain tops. Take me under six feet then resurrect my faith and purity. Beginning to end, hallelujah, and Amen.

Watch a live performance of this poem here: Tongues: Live performance

 

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