Snap, Crackle, Pop.
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
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
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
Pulls out… .
©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.
- i wish boogie was here to eat this pizza boli’s with me. it was last minute and a 2 hour trip in the rain but it would be nice to have him in my face eating this fucking pizza with me.
- my boyfriend, when i get one, will be perpetually frustrated with me. my mind will anger him. my heart will calm him. but overall he’ll be in turmoil about my thinkings. he’ll have to realize that all i think about is everything about us that never matters. so i can remind him of things he’ll never make a point to remember. i hate my mind.
- and then….
you don’t always have to prove or show that you’re not to be overpowered or dominated. why can’t you be held and lifted and taken care of every now and then? do you not like being dominated?
i’m not here to make you feel “weak” in any way. sometimes i just wanna kiss and sleep. the wrestling is fun. and the first time i emerged from your aggression, i walked around my apartment shirtless wearing my bruises proudly. secretly, but proudly.
sometimes i just want you to moan, let me tongue you down, and fall asleep with my face nestled between your thighs. without you being all cannibalistic.
- and you can kiss my entire ass and tell the entire world how far you were from staking a motherfucking claim.
- only two slices? yeah - only two slices of pizza.
- my cologne smells good.
- my apartment sounds cold and wet. despite the lighting.
- i’m cold.
- third slice….
and if i keep telling people i ain’t shit
watch what power is in this stubby ass fucking tongue.
- in retrospect, without acknowledging it, i realize i was the best me i could possibly be today while at work today. i was productive and i was proactive. and it was effortless.
- i don’t know what they’re doing with the hot water in this building but — CAROL!
- i love it when my friends come around.
- so we’re about to try this master of my domain challenge again. i have original photography on the line. but damn didn’t we bend them rules real good?
- if i was rich - i would take such good care of you.
- but i’m not.
- i walked past the suicidal rabbit today. we made eye contact and he mumbled something about being late as he scurried back into the valley of the brush.
- had to look up the definition of brush - — - i used it right.
- i’m completely sober but i still feel the need to mention that some[one] should take the liberty of sitting on my face.
- everything about the media makes me hate everything about the world.
i have to get liquor in this house.
- so the month of july has only required one thing. to be alone.
- dating alone has been fucking INCREDIBLE.
- i’m realizing there’s nothing about me that’s relationship material. i just can’t keep up with shit
- my godbrother is texting me pictures of huge dicks saying that it’s his requirement for the RN or anesthesiologist that he wants to get with. the person would need to be quite the anesthesiologist if his dick is going to be ankle hung.
- i’m having tacos for dinner tonight.
- i loathe the shit out of that third bullet.
- said the words “my dude” to a tumblr crush one too many times. what kinda uneducated trade shit is this?
- why do i have the option to buy glass dildos New & Used off of Amazon? Just…. why?
- is it dildos or dildoes?
- according to the red squiggly line it’s dildos.
- i have a bad habit of grabbing ass(es) when I really get into a hug.
- i was going to say that i have too many tumblr crushes but most of them are straight so therefore…this.
enjoy y’alls humping day.
- i look back at old photos i’ve taken and old compositions i’ve written and i say, “somewhere inside of me there’s still a very possible greatness that needs to be rediscovered.”
- i used to be a great writer.
- i used to be a great photographer
- when people (guys) tell me they’re horny, i automatically join in and get horny too.
- as a result, i’m pretty absolute that tina belcher is my spirit animal. she’s obsessed with coitus, butts, and raunch.
i need a nap.
- i’m sexiest with my clothes on.
- got comfortable on the couch, hands ended up smelling homeless.
- i’ve been wanting to wear a tie all week. weather said no
- i’m going to NY on Saturday. shit bout ta get real.
- i haven’t had a good hug in awhile.
one that counts.
I had a dream just now that there was a deeper bass line to Flying Lotus’ “Getting There” and it sent chills to my core.
I had on headphones so the chills were almost like the chills I get from the warm/cool combination I feel when someone is licking in my ear.
And before I knew it I was dozing. On the bus stop. And I’d stopped breathing. In ecstasy. And then the music pulled me. Showed me that this cuntshitass bus hadn’t showed yet.
I hate this whore of a bus.
When Men Use Lotion as Lube
1. it feels amazing when you’re beating it
2. you can’t tell what’s nut and what’s lotion afterwards
3. you clean off
4. it itches
5. it really itches
6. you’re in public but you can’t scratch
7. you get home and you figure out the best way to scratch the hell out of the itch
8. after 20 minutes of scratching, yes, you gave yourself herpes.
It’s horrific. Then the healing begins which is like, wow - the skin of my dick has dandruff like a bitch. It turns all flaky. And essentially you’re too embarrassed to get head from anyone because your dick looks like it got stung by a bee, ran out into traffic, and didn’t survive.
Oh nothing - just throwing back my weekdays…
Song: Go to The Mo
Album: Late Nights with Jeremih (Mixtape)
What a day:
My body is an asshole:
- "Oh hey - you get off work at 5p, it’s 4:56p. LET’S GO POO!"
- "Man we totally got wasted last night! Didn’t get to sleep til 3a! SINCE IT’S 6:38A LET’S WAKE ALL THE WAY THE FUCK UP AND DO ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! I mean after all, it’s Saturday."
- "Check it out - your stop is coming up! LET’S TAKE A FUCKING SNOOZE!"
Back in picture mode:
- Update FB marketing.
- Oh the storm that we had this afternoon….
(required sex)(wait til you see the pics)
- doing my first same sex wedding tomorrow.
And this is why I put my phone on silent and ignore anyone with a fucking pulse
- The people that aren’t following me, are the ones that visit my space the most.
- I’m starting to hate relationships and any variation thereof.
- Life on this avenue has been like listening to syndicated radio. I can’t fucking stand this shit. The callers. The opinions. The know-it-alls. And that’s why I drive in silence.
- Guess whose credit card balance is on that low-low.
- And who is finishing a book tonight.
- And throwing out the invisibles, ignored, and unnecessaries
- And about to smash a DiGiorno…
Question for the general public:
How do u handle a crush?
- I went with Bobby Christina to a doctor’s appointment. It was snowy outside. We were waiting for some kind of results. They came back “good”. We walked out to the car. It was a white Range Rover in a huge empty parking lot covered in slushy snow. Inside was Whitney Houston, celebrating the “good” results with us. The family started asking me why I was so emotional. That’s when, somehow, it was revealed to me that it was one week before Whitney Houston’s death.