Sugar Milk

A NSFW Blog:

Writer. Researcher. Observer. Aspiring minimalist. Photographer. Music collector. Social Drinker. Sex enthusiast. Urban. Queer. Accepting. Public Transportation.
Spring and Autumn Memoir

It’s irritating.
Snap, Crackle, Pop.
The sound….
That singer Dwele talked about it
he called it - - don’t wake the baby.
Snap, Crackle, Pop.

The sounds that I hear
The sounds of caps opening.
Caps opening lips fluttering
Voices indecipherable
Pleasure indescribable
And I just want some rest.
But I got rice krispies down the hall.
Bowls of them
and the milk and mutha’fuckin honey that flows
Leaves feel goods in the bathroom sink
Residue in dress shoes
and festering smells leaking off
Kitchen radiators.

Bowls and bowls telling me… .
Why don’t we chill no more.
Because Rice Krispies are too busy being Cereal Killers.
I lay with Eyes wide shut
Mouths Closed parted
in the stillness…..
I hear footsteps by my quarters
As more milk is poured down his back
Of his dick…
And straight into the bowl of it
The sound of it
The gore of it

I’m fucking narcoleptic
With fits of insomnia
Because the infidelity of it all
Flesh on Flesh snapping
Moaning voices crackling
… and in the stillness of my room

Kellogg’s would need to consider re-marketing.

Cuz they ain’t got shit
On the way
This irritation
Pulls out… .

*POP*

—-
©2007 Quillium C. Wordsmith
I wrote this poem about a former roommate and all the sounds I heard every time he had a date over. lol this was fun.