The Sapiosexual


I'm down with friendships, enlightened minds
Shared theories & having no real concept of time
Spilling the contents of my soul on a napkin so it can unfold
& lay out a brilliant carpet in the crevice of his mind
To frolic in his subconscious
So superb & succulent
The hours countless & his brain so moist
Like the cake & all its contents
It's a beautiful disaster of non-sense
But we're on this
No break in concentration or conversation
Is it possible for his words to get my mind wet?
That's a hell of a concept, but his literary word spasms
are giving me a literature orgasm
Or
Could it be something about his paragraphs, his punctuation?
His metaphors & similes that keep me so stimulated
Hydrated when his words splash on my tongue
Tickled is the word when I hear the vibrations of his mouth hum
Those literary luscious lips always take me on trips through a vast
playground of synonyms, action verbs, and marry-go-rounds
The intellect is like none I've ever met
Sit and read with me
I quiver with every page that turns
Give me all you knowledge baby, because baby I like to learn
I like to learn

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