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I’m Chillin’ and It Feels Swell Because I Needed to Fuck Out That Funk

The cool breeze emptied my blouse as I held onto my glass filled Margarita. Nighttime in L.A. never disappoints. None of that summer heat that penetrates the places you need to save for later.

It’s a collage of cool breezes and star-filled skies beckoning the possibilities that have already found you.

I looked good.

Nina Simone good. Fresh new hair cut and a color that gives my skin permission to glisten without the accompaniment of products that cost too much to bear.

In these times of racial strife — I prefer to look the part and play it — with gusto.

I want to be as hot as Leslie Jones. I need the kinetic swing of Serena Williams.

I demand the authenticity of Gabourey Sidibe.

I want to fuck like Nola Darling.

Nola — gave birth to the summer homage of my dreams. She’s my religion. She had to have it and so do I.

If you’re lost — Google. That’s the language you abide by anyway.

So, do it.

Find out why the summer of my content will surely be the sex that fucking releases me from bondage.

I’ve been pent up for too long by the assholes of America. But, America secretly has a crush on me and won’t show it because that’s what we do when we hide behind our fancy.

He was American.

Strong, bold and tall — with eyes honing in on the lacy cover up that boosted my breasts.

I thought I looked butch with this haircut. He thought it radiated from within and worked the corners of my profile in a rather curious way.

Words. Words. Words.

They sound great until you’re almost drunk and giddy with the knowledge that you’re slippery pussy will be fed.

Nola! Always there when I need you. We have the same haircut. I know you understand the juggle of men.

I had sex the day before and it annoyed me because I came and he didn’t.

Now, I’m writhing with hungry and joy.

Fuck the world! Fuck America! Fuck me!

I’m fucking!

And the funk of the days dimmed by the light of the darkness of being washes away with each grind and halt. Grind and halt.


Halt. Then let it go. Hold on and imagine how healthy the days ahead will be compared to when you’re lower back was hunched over in recollection.

The grime is doused away and now it’s time to play again.


Written by

Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say!

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