literature

Echo-Sexual

Deviation Actions

Published: Mar 23, 2011

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Literature Text

Hugging my head like a vice of nice, noisy, snuggly, familiar sound.
You are the top of my playlist - the one I play with... Y'know, on my own.
... You get the gist...?
It's pretty embarassing; see, being seen, lusting and blushing as you buffer on your loading screen. It seems obscene, unclean but heck' it did say parental advisory.

On our own, in private... You'll stroll through my brain, down my spine, through my stomach to my heart and back around.
A one way to trip, finally ending at my lips with the lyrics that don't just slip out, but bud and bloom and flower out to drivers and starers and strangers and other head bnagers like me.
You stick around for a while and you call back in the morning; whispering, muttering, almost singing in the dawning.

"I just can't getcha' outta' mah heyad! Boy, you're more than enough to think about! I just can getcha' outta mah heyad~!"

...

I do everything for you,
I smuggle you through cyber space and try to ease the peer pressure.
I wait while you whirr, pause, click and FINALLY start
An iTease just for me as you strip the audio from video to M-P-freedom.

Nothing but the cord catches on, though.
Once when we danced, I made things awkward, got ahead of myself like gale force on the chorus. But you said it was straight forward, said' I ought to pause before I get stuck, and got comfortable.
You have that affect.
You temble with tempo, you can also rewind and reflect...

Nothing is like you, they don't come close, not like I do when I'm with you.
Try humping a radio. It's not the same, all talk and you have to wait.
A record player's picky and vicious, always scratching, stopping, always something in the background. Y'know. All that...

You lay me bare, you unfurl me, my insecurities that no one knows or tells me.
But I always crescendo early.

This is Immature, so it gets no warning

~~WARNING. SEXUAL INNUENDO.~~
In YOUR endo'.
I know you guys are grown up enough to handle a bit of slap and tickle humour... Right?

I get a bit blunt here and there... I know! C8

I wanted to write another spoken word, I was thrilled by the last response and wanted another go!

Recently, my bag got kicked by some charming sixth former and my lovely, pink, toxic symbol headphones were injured and then went to head-phone heaven. (Or hell, most probably hell cos' they were leaky and behaved badly sometimes...)
In any case, that meant I was left with my god awful Phillips pair - which ARE going to headphone hell! - and I appreciated how much I missed them. Phillips branded the things as "Portable" a which is interchangable word for "a million and one pieces of shit that needs cellotape like a life support." Not only that, only one ear worked and half the sound it produced fluttered away to annoy passers-by.

Something had to be done :/
I bought a pair of Sony Djs and now I want to get married to the things!
So very snug and warm, durable and sleek and most of all; noisetight.

My iPod and music is very important to me, what can I say? My excuses for being a recluse in the car are laid bare and pathetic.
I don't get to talk a lot during class so when I have my earphones in, it makes a great change from being ignored. Of course I listen to the teacher, just not when they're in the room or setting us reading.
And I listen to anything, I discriminate genres~
Lively and Clever are my buzzwords with music. But I like slower stuff and mind numbing pop too.

Technology can make anyone anti-social; meh.

Partially inspred by George Watsky. That's why its more rap-ish than my usual stuff. He writes really cheeky rap/poetry sometimes and I wanted the same feeling of naughtiness.

TL;DR
THIS POEM IS ABOUT HAVING SEX WITH AN IPOD. KTHNXBAI.

EDIT: METAPHORICALLY, GUYS.
GOD, NO WONDER I GOT MORE COMMENTS THAN USUAL...
*Ammended some words and made some more half rhymes and extra personification*

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