THAT INSTANCE OF IMPACT, FROM THROW TO HIT, A FETISH FOR FLAVORS

Will you receive a scream
As you would a whisper
Let your eardrums write
The speech of a king
Whose fists are wrapped
Upon the blade he just ran through
The neck of his queen
(Clothed now with her skin and breasts
His armor made from her ribs)
Tonight’s feast shall be sponsored by her flesh.

This is the safety of death,
This is the peace of violence.
This is all that we are
And all that we need to know
And be that secret
Told in a rendezvous of souls
The window to the sun.
After the chaos and the void
Let there be light.

Will you welcome fear
As you would with pride
Let your shadow defeat
The obsolete face of honor
That made carcasses out of dreams
Fought with good intentions
And devoured by disillusion
(Betrayed by the seduction of ire
The temptress that is our dark side)
Tonight’s dance shall be fueled by widowed brides.

Vivien Marie Lopez Jorillo
(c) 2013

Spit Or Swallow’s tongue has been cut.

Due to unforeseen, sad circumstances that involve narrow-minded people you can’t really say no to anyway, I am moving Spit Or Swallow and renaming it (don’t tell my mother, please).

Here’s the link to Spit Or Swallow’s new home, and have yourself some Riot Creme:

http://vivienlopezriotcreme.wordpress.com/

Thank you very much, my dear followers. I do miss reading your content and sharing what I can offer.

Sincerely yours,
Vivien Marie Lopez
The Saliva of the now impotent Spit Or Swallow
Squeezer of the newborn Riot Creme

Dearest Delicious

Maybe we’re 86
Remembering our 69s
And with our arthritis
We’ll settle with giddy knowing smiles
I’ll bring my lips
To your crow’s feet
I’ll kiss your blurry eyes
Perhaps gross out some clueless kids
Watching us old shameless lovebirds on the street
I’ll still shake my wrinkled ass cheeks
As you bite them without teeth
So let me blow you now like a birthday cake
And name my face with your love spray
(while we still have today)

(c) 2013
Vivien Marie Lopez Jorillo
For my Edman Chris Dominique Jorillo

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Filter

You looked big and awkward in my hand. Anyway, there I was, perched in that sultry cross-legged angle with you inside my mouth. I blew you, and I was amazed by the way your flavor touched my tongue and my throat, the way you grew warmer and warmer as I went on, sipping you, sucking you, getting all of you. And as per usual with this kind of tryst, we finished with you all drained out of juice, while nothing really came out of me.

That’s the problem with you. You’re a robot’s dong. You’re hard and huge and all that, but you had no fucking sensuality, no romance, no drama, no cure for the wet smoker that I was. Maybe this was a mistake. I did this because you were cleaner, more professional, more socially acceptable. Marlboro – he was a bad bad boy, and for sure it seemed like it’s him and me against the world because there were times I had to take him far from the eyes of the world, but he was real, and he was a better lover. He bent when I would bite him with that lust to breathe him in and he laughed out this fire and smoke he only could make. I thought about that and… if you’re this woman that I am, who would you choose? I loved Marlboro because I loved him. There was a passion, a drive, a madness. Marlboro talked dirty. Also, he didn’t mind when my lipstick marked him forever, or when my teeth gave him scars. He kept souvenirs like that. Sensitive, sentimental, sexy. Dangerous, at best. And I liked that, because ain’t love risque and risk, peek and peak and pique? What’s loving a man but a habit that sometimes hurt?

I felt like a hypocrite when no matter how much I try to build you up according to my preferences, you’re still not it. Marlboro had his own musky scent and I longed for him in that manner, while, well, look at you, you’re all masked with your various fragrances but that’s simply not you. Believe me, I tried, like what good girls ought to do.

Sometimes I wondered if I only must to learn to love you, Vape, because by all standards you were supposed to be the right one. But I couldn’t feel you, and I’m sorry. Anyway, I’ll stop crossing my legs. I do not need this to turn you on.

(c) 2013
Vivien Marie Lopez
(A Vape Review)
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Cigarette Farewell (Her Name is Vape)

That multi-S sound when you burn won’t
ring into my ears anymore
as my eyes set nostalgia
upon my Cricket’s sunrise campfire
that sparked many a random tale
in java-platformed rituals

sealed in nicotine-stained fingernails
and secondhand clouds we inhale
your love was true and deadly.

Of course my Vape cannot replicate
the melodrama of your hold
and precious last-minute deaths
where each stick counts as a break in time

where many a friendship was formed
“Do you have a light?” beginnings
halve a skag kind of endings
you were a lung’s first love
sweet and addictive
sexy and vogue
wild lover

so it
goes.

(c) 2013
Vivien Marie Lopez

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Something Brighter than the Sun

wish
which.
forgo the
sunset,
where we make
windows out of
HD screens
only to claim our
air
while we wait
for dewdrops
and light.
this is our rest
your chest plus your scent
and there’s never a
fickle Atlas.

(c) 2013
Vivien Marie Lopez Jorillo
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