Hello Dark(me)ss

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.

Darling for the Night

In moments like these I remember your long, lovely blonde hair,
I muse on the fact that you came dressed in no air,
That your soft-rough intrigue of skin stretched over a frame so divinely prepared.

 
I chuckle at the persistent debacle we had with your intrusive fringe,
How much we both fought to get at each other’s necks,
How my teeth dug in and distantly caressed your flesh,
And that unintentional blessing and curse of a mark I left; a bruise tinge.

 
The best moments for me were the throes you disappeared into,
In those seconds you went between palming the wall and holding your forehead,
I felt the mirrored, overwhelming satisfaction as, from my tongue or hand, you momentarily fled,
And I celebrated with you as your thighs hugged my temples and almost split me in two.

 
Obsession I found in the bottom of your navel,
Like an insatiable foreign government I wanted to plunder it but guard it with forces; air to naval,
I circled it in a dance — psychedelic and trance-induced,
I sometimes took a step back, partially hoping to deduce what magic this was it produced,
But mostly groping for a semblance of sanity; fiddling with my noose.

 
You, though a darling for the night,
Stand for the immeasurable beauty of serendipity: the falcon’s catch mid-flight,
For the off meeting of eyes that stirs curiosity but never preempts guttural sighs,
For the times that you and I would always have liked but were never primed,
For this moment in which I shall inevitably decide,
To kiss you sweetly and make myself as much yours as I want you mine;
If only for tonight.

Yours in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.
Darling for the Night