love letters

June 22, 2019

Write me love letters with your fingernails on my back, and I’ll write poetry with my tongue between your legs..

I want my head
to live
in-between
your legs.
 
I want my head
to live
in-between
your legs
because in-between
your legs
is where your pussy
lives
 
and I wanna lick
your pussy
all the time,
 
most preferably
with my tongue.
 
But before I lick her,
         your pussy
         that is,
I want to make her
more excited
first.
 
I wanna bite
the insides of your
thighs
the same way
I take bites
outta Twix Bars.
 
I wanna start my Twix bites
down by your knees,
         then proceeding
to slowly
work my Twix bites
up towards
your pussy.
 
Then,
         just as I get so close
         to your pussy
         that you think I’m gonna
         Twix bite her,
I will go back
and gently kiss
each Twix bite mark
I made on your thighs,
         as if undoing them
with my lips,
 
         as if healing them,
 
         as if saying,
“Oh, I’m sorry…
         I’m so, so, so
         so sorry…
Here…
         Let me kiss it
and make it
all better for you.”
 
I will kiss up
and down the inside
of your thighs,
         soft, wet, smacking kisses
         making it all better,
while simultaneously making
your pussy excited
for some licking,
 
like really,
really excited,
 
like when I come home
and my dog runs over to me
and jumps up and down
and then runs in circles
kinda excited.
 
Once I see your pussy
jumping up and down
and running in circles
I will know it’s finally time
for me
to lick her
 
and she will be
ready
 
or at least
she thinks
she’ll be ready
but she has no idea
what is in store
for her,
 
that I’m hell bent
on complete and total
clitoral devastation,
 
that I’m a pussy terrorist
and I won’t be happy
until your clit
is exploding.
 
But I won’t attack her
with my tongue
until I’ve attacked
the rest of your pussy
first.
 
My tongue will run
soft laps
up and down
the sides of your pussy,
         jogging along
         your labias with huffing,
         puffing moisture,
 
then,
         once it’s all warmed up,
my tongue will
push itself harder.
 
It will go from a jog
into a full run,
         moving harder
and harder
and faster and faster
up and down
your pussy’s miraculous curves
and folds.
 
Then my tongue
will swoop down
to your vaginal opening.
 
It will do circles
around it like a wet, vulture
made out of muscle,
         each circle
bringing it closer and closer
to my tongue
slipping itself inside
of you
 
and your vaginal hole
will feel it coming,
 
it will be waiting
for it,
 
for my tongue
to peek its head
inside
and say, “Hello,”
 
circling closer
and closer,
 
almost inside of you,
 
so close to being
inside of you,
 
         your vaginal hole
         tingling in anticipation,
 
and then my tongue
stops…
 
It returns
to the air and continues
circling,
 
circling your vaginal
opening,
 
moving in again
 
closer,
         closer…
 
waiting for the perfect
moment
to slip itself
inside you,
 
getting nearer
now,
 
nearer,
 
nearer
 
and then,
         finally,
the warmth of my tongue sticks itself
inside you
 
but just a little
bit.
 
Just enough
to look around inside
and make sure the coast
is clear.
 
Then,
         once my tongue sees
         everything is safe,
it will slide itself
deeper inside
you,
         discovering
that there is nothing
to fear here,
 
that this is safest
and most wonderful place
in the world,
         the overall joy
and happiness
of this discovery
making my tongue
so happy
that it begins dancing
with itself
inside of you
 
just like Billy Idol,
 
my tongue
having a dance party
deep in your pussy
like it’s on the floor
of Tokyo,
or down in the London town
to go, go,
 
just a’dancing
with itself,
 
moving around
inside of you
feeling completely free
and liberated,
         this whole time
your clit
silently getting
nervous,
 
knowing her time
is coming
and finally realizing
my tongue’s plans of
complete and total
clitoral devastation.
 
The dance party
in your pussy will end
but the after party
hasn’t even begun
yet.
 
My tongue will slide
outta you
and it will head
north.
 
I will pop the hood
that your clit
hides under
with my hand
so she is entirely
defenseless
and so I can see her
look at me
with frightened eyes.
 
I will smile
because she is so
pretty.
 
I will lean in
and kiss her,
 
         softly at first,
 
as if reassuring her
that everything
is okay,
         as if trying to
lull her to sleep
with the delicacy
of my fat, pouting
lips.
 
Then,
         once I’ve lulled your clit
         into a false state
         of security,
I will begin sucking
on her,
 
lightly,
 
lightly,
 
         like a weak Hoover
vacuum that hasn’t hit
the Hoover gym
in ages,
 
then gradually
applying more
pressure,
 
sucking harder,
         harder,
 
popping the hood back
even further with my hands
so I can really
get in there,
 
sucking harder,
         harder…
 
and then just totally
stopping…
 
         removing my lips
and tongue
from her
completely.
 
1 second,
2 seconds,
3 seconds,
 
letting cool air
run over her,
         completely contrasting
the heat
I was just smothering her
with,
 
confusing her.
 
“Is that it?
         Is that all?”
she’ll ask herself,
         relieved
 
and then I will blow
on her,
         a soft, refreshing
breeze
that blinds her
before I move back in
for the kill,
         licking her
the same way a kitten
licks milk
from a saucer,
 
soft, quick,
repeated licks,
 
rapid-fire licks,
 
hitting your clit over
and over
and over
and over
and over
and over
like the tiny, adorable
and perfect
speedbag she is.
 
My licks
gaining strength,
 
getting bigger
and stronger,
 
going even faster,
 
juking and jiving
like a boxer,
 
coming at her
and hitting her from all
angles
and,
         no longer just the tip
         of my tongue,
but now with the entire head
of my tongue,
         attacking her with perfect,
warm wetness,
         running itself over her
again
and again,
 
never letting up,
 
only hitting harder,
 
only going faster,
 
beating your clit
into beautiful
submission,
 
your clit throbbing,
         pulsating…
 
Do you know what
a city looks like
when its power rapidly
flickers on and off
during the night
before a power outage?
 
That’s what
your clit
feels like,
 
either shorting out
or shorting in
but my tongue never
giving her the chance
to figure out
which one,
         only continuing to move
over her tirelessly,
         relentlessly,
 
finding the rhythm
she likes,
 
the rhythm
she needs
 
and then
sticking to it,
 
strumming the rhythm
over her
like your clit is
a guitar
and like my tongue
is the guitar pick,
 
strumming her
over and over
and over
again,
 
making music,
 
making her sing,
 
making her moan,
 
making her begin
to scream,
 
louder,
         louder,
 
strumming, strumming, strumming, strumming, strumming
her
with my tongue…
 
making her feel like
a city
ready to explode,
 
lights flickering
on and off,
 
power going in
and out,
 
so close…
 
         so close…
 
so close to complete
and total
clitoral devastation…
 
closer,
closer,
closer,
 
throbbing,
         pulsating,
                   booming,
 
a beautiful bombing,
 
a tiny, city
under the relentless attack
of my tongue,
 
this is it,
 
         the end is near,
 
achieving complete
and total
clitoral devastation,
 
complete warmness
draping itself over you
like a heavy blanket,
 
shaking,
         trembling,
 
your knees weak,
 
         your head totally
         weightless,
                   floating off of your neck
                   like a balloon,
 
feeling both life
and death right
in-between your legs,
 
complete and total
clitoral devastation
confirmed.
 
Whew….
 
(wipes sweat from
forehead)
 
So yeah,
 
that’s why I wanna live
in-between your
legs.
 
So I can lick
your pussy
all the time.
 
And your asshole
is there
too.
 
But that’s a whole,
other poem
itself.
 
 

Calvero

(And who is Calvero? He is a writer/crazy cat guy extraordinaire. He writes frequently and when he isn’t writing he is more often than not eating Taco Bell, daydreaming about hunting ghosts, daydreaming about Taco Bell when he’s not eating Taco Bell, working at a cat hospital, or screaming in frustration at whatever video game he’s currently addicted to. He has appeared in numerous online literary journals and is the author of the poetry collections “someday i’m going to marry Katy Perry,” “i want love so great it makes nicholas sparks cream in his pants”:  University of Hell Press, and the ebook “i won’t be happy until the sun is unhappy” :Thought Catalog. Now you know.)

Cherry Pie Daydreams

January 15, 2019

In this dream, we are baking cherry pies.
We are baking cherry pies in the middle of a sunlit kitchen and leaving them to cool on the windowsill.
I want to say that there is sunshine spilling everywhere.
I want to say that it’s falling out of the gaps between your teeth because it probably is.
How could it not be?
In this dream I put my mouth on your mouth and try to catch all of that happiness with my tongue,
we play soft music that sounds like sighing
and I breathe like a paper bird rustling
against your tongue.
Did I say that there is a meadow in my stomach?
Did I tell you that you were every flower inside of it?
I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. You knew,
how could you not?
In this dream, you are probably licking my fingertips clean,
and we are dripping cherry jam on the counters.
In this dream we are dancing barefoot on a wooden floor,
tangled so far inside of each other like knitting string.
I am kissing your shoulders
and paying special attention to the dusk setting in your hollows.
I am sticking my fingers in your belly button,
and your ears and right there, where you’re all ribs.
In this dream, we are belly full,
I’ll kiss your knees and I’ll stroke your hips,
I’ll comb your hair.
In this dream, we sit side by side and hold hands
and knock our bodies like bowling pins.
In this dream I’ll feed you cherry pie with my fingers,
you’ll kiss me with your mouth wide open,
we’ll taste that sweetness everywhere,
how could we not?

Azra Tabassum

onthebeach

Interesting idea….

April 10, 2015

Ice

Dived down…

March 22, 2015

intheair

“I just dived down. It couldn’t have been too fast. Time was being so slow and warm. And there it was. A pussy, the singular place on a girl, it’s where I’m going. Wiggly thing, like soup, like a bowl. Another mouth. Like lips between her legs and the taste of it. Piss and fruit. I pressed my face against its bone and it moved. She was letting me. All this was happening. I smelled the future right there, a present and a past. All that went through her, known through the soft sweet flesh of her lips and clit. It was like my face felt loved temporarily. I wasn’t even long this feeling of total rightness. I was telling her clit a story. If there is a warm disassociation this was it: placing my head one night on her warm puss and lapped. I felt plunged into a tropical movie in which light was bathing my head and her pussy, her cunt, her crotch was a warm smile and for a moment I lived in her sun.”

Eileen Myles
Inferno