There is a dangerous dance to the beat called life that perchance,
May get us killed in ways as unpleasant as, to wrists, a knife,
But what to do when moments are as fleeting as they are instant?
When fighting internally is arguably the worst kind of strife?
I want me to myself — to amass more good fortune than wealth,
To collect when moments are opportune and beneficial to, first and foremost, myself,
I want to delve into subjects that push you to fine-tune your open-mindedness,
That shake your body to the tune of your own deep, dark, sultry, nightly breath.
In your challenge of the concept of moral presentation of self,
You shall find the true extent of your so-called darkness,
Peer into that cavernous pit, lit by the candles of your simultaneous sweetness,
Ventilated by the punchy, fierce candour of your frankness,
Watered by the trickle of sweat from your forehead down to your breast,
A sure sign that you are ready to put to the test your very definition of sex;
Go on then! Down into the infiniteness of yourself you must venture next,
You know where to find me if you need a guide, helpful text or instigative caress.
Yours in serendipity,
Evans Mbora Campbell.