Minuit Confession Du Pécheur

Twisting and turning in this bed.

Legs in a vise grip.

Air levels are depleting.

Gasping for acceptance,

Gasping for love,

Gasping for truth,

Gasping for understanding.

I am a huge contradiction.

I am the thing I fear the most.

I shake my head no,

But spread my legs,

In desperate anticipation,

For the devil’s euphoric stroke and flow.

My chest heaves anxiously,

For his talented tongue to taste my skin,

I need this sin.

My nipples tighten in practiced rhapsody,

For the soulless being taking me to ecstasy.

My core soaks in abject blasphemy,

For the ignorant bliss he brings for the night.

Suffocation is here,

The man in black has [finally] re-appeared.

My affinity for the sinful,

For the debauchery,

For the unattainable,

Will be the death of me.

-N

The Objectification of Men (Finally!)

Hello world!

So I had a religious experience this weekend. It was full of wisdom, deep insight, and I left feeling completed, sated, and spiritually blessed.

I had my revival service at the Magic Mike XXL premier this weekend.

As I was sitting in the theaters, watching the many previews, and waiting with bated breath for my favorite boys to light up the silver screen, I was thinking about the objectification of women.

In society, especially in the good ole’ U.S. Of A. women are judged constantly by what we wear, how we act, and what we should want versus what we actually want. (Good old fashioned, toe-curling, coma inducing, hair pulling orgasms, [yes plural] followed by good food, conversation, and possibly a relationship) However, if a naked woman comes on during a commercial break, and says anything remotely sexual, or holding anything representing a phallic shape, best believe the National Organization for Women will be on that commercial like white on rice.

Don’t get me wrong; I agree with all the women’s organizations, and such. No woman should be objectified, criticized, or demeaned just because of what is on her chests, and between her legs. But say we took a different approach; What if some women (Not all, of course) basked in the objectification? Men do it sometimes, (As seen throughout the film) and seem to flourish under all the attention. Are we being too sensitive?

Again, just an observation, nothing else.

I’m not calling Magic Mike XXL a stimulating, intellectual, IFC film; What you see is what you get, and the title says it all. But what if we took the same approach as the magnificent strippers and just not give a fuck?

Now wait! I’m not going to sit here and waste over 1,000 words boring you about all the gorgeous men and their abs, the dancing, sex, lots of ass, Twitch, abs, roll on the floor laughter moments, Tarzan, Matt Bomer, abs, long *ahem* manhood troubles, (did I mention abs?) and such. I’m not even going to tell you about Mike’s past life, and his alter ego, (A.K.A. white chocolate) or the amount of feels you’ll get listening to some 90’s, and early 2000’s throwback music.

No, I’m not going to say go see it at all.

😉

-N

Destination…….

It was nightfall,

The weather was hot,

humid,

It had a tinge of sex appeal.

The road was the only thing that held my attention.

The dark obsidian eyes,

The feel of the warm earth beneath my bare feet,

The purring of the car’s engine as I pushed it’s limits,

The wind whipping through my hair and under my dress….

Yes, nature,

Make love to me.

I came just from thinking about it.

I grabbed my keys,

Walked out the door,

& started the car.

Hoston,

‘Lanta,

LA,

The Bay,

Fuck the destination;

I just needed to get away.

Just me,

& the 101.

-N

A Saturday Night Prose

I went out on Friday night.
Went to find my love.
Lover of the evening,
One night stand,
Same thing.

I hitched up my bra,
Cut two more inches of my halter dress,
Mis sur mon baise moi pompes,
And was ready to go.

I club hopped,
Saw some friends everywhere I went,
Took shots with old lovers,
Laughed for what seemed like days.

Went to my last bar of the evening,
And there you were.

You weren’t supposed to be here.
You were the reason I disappeared.

-N

A Celebration

Hello world!
So today marks my 3 year anniversary with WordPress! (The longest relationship I’ve ever had) Some people would shrug it off, or say that it’s no big deal, but to me it is. I’ve had a lot of good things happen to me this year in 2015, and getting that brief notification brightened my already sunny day. I’ve lost a bit of my steam recently, and I think the reason is because I’ve been suffering from writers block. (And by writer’s block I mean staring at a blank word document screen as if it’s retarded or something) I was suffering from not finding enough words to say, and that always scares me. I was feeling this way until I heard some music.
And by music I mean Ne-Yo latest sex themed cd.
Now some people find inspiration from the strangest things; I know food is one of many inspirational ways I get a word or two out; but it was something about these songs, and the underlying message. Now to the average person it’s about meeting someone, falling in love, and the actual act of love. Paired with some upbeat gym songs, you’ve got an average 2015 top Billboard album. But maybe it’s the adult-ness (if that’s a word) to the songs created; It seems as if his music has reached another level, and I along with others are able to participate in this music-driven journey.
Or maybe it’s me. I feel that I’ve matured and reached another level. I have evolved, especially in my writing, and you guys were here to see me become more skilled at a hobby that I love. I hope you all are good. I hope the past year has been good so far, and that you too have evolved into the person you want to become.
-N

Prove It To Me In The Nude……..

Heart beats quickly.
I can’t breathe.
This heady sensation.
No don’t stop,
keep going.
If all I can have is pleasure,
Then let me treasure.

Laying on this bed,
feels like paradise.
My heart feels compromised;
Yet I roll the dice.

You lean over my body.
You whisper in my ear,
You tell me things a woman should hear.

Feeling open,
Exposed,
Where is the fire coming from?
This internal steam.
You make me cream.
You scare me because you make me dream.

Dream about more than the average,
To reach for something above and beyond.

Because of your hands,
You have me doing things I don’t understand.
You make me second guess what I thought I knew.
How could I never had a clue?

You hold my body as a person should.
You tell me to trust,
You tell me it’s a must.
I’m trying, but it’s hard.

I tell you but you kiss me,
Hold me,
Shake your head and tell me that you can keep me safe and warm.
I shake my head and disagree.
I tell you,
It’s so hard to give something you fear being broken.
Used,
Overlooked.

You caress my face,
And tell me of a place we will go.
You tell me to close my eyes,
And you will make all the worry subside.

Seen, scream, beam.
You know the theme.

I take a sip from the flask,
and take off the mask.

-N

A Serious Proposition To The Ladies

(If you’ve read Astell you catch my drift)

Dear Women,
I know that you feel tired. If you’re like me and you’ve just seen a bunch of rom-coms then you know what I’m talking about.
You’re looking for a man.
And not just any man, no the hero, the savior of dreams, the slayer of dragons, the one that loves to dance and can hold a tune. He’s supposed to make your knees quiver, He’s supposed to make you throw your head back in shameless abandon, and make you wanna say his name….
Sorry, just finished reading a Katheleen E. Woodiwiss book.You get what I’m saying?
The problem is, when this man comes about, at first he tends to need you, want you, may even say he loves you,
But does he really mean it? What about years down the road, when you are ready to have children, when you are ready to be the best soccer mom on the planet only to find that it was all a lie? Oh what to do? Well let me enlighten you.You see I’m tired. I’ve heard a lot and seen a lot. As you’ve read this past sentence you’re probably smirking thinking to yourself, “Now what has Nicole seen in her 24 years of life that would make her even close to a veteran?”
Ladies, you don’t know the half of it. Men say that we are controlled by our emotions; and that may be true 90% of the time. That however doesn’t excuse, nor condone the recent behavior men have exhibited to women. (Especially the behavior I have seen) Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not in any way bitter, or wishing the death of the male gender. But I want them to really see the damage that is being done to women by their own hands.
I’ve seen a woman, give up her whole life, give everything to a man just to find out that giving everything still isn’t good enough. I’ve seen a man have a woman work, provide, basically everything and be just quietly observing on the sideline.
I’ve seen a woman who wants to start the next chapter of her life, but can’t even move on because of false information.
Does any of this sound familiar to you?
On Lifetime, there is a movie coming out in a couple of weeks about three women, who are friends and vow to be married by the end of that year. While this journey is happening we see the friendship between the women, the ups and downs in their life along with the men who invade their minds, hearts, and bodies.
Now the movie had me at first; Just looking at the previews, hearing the Sia “Chandelier” song had me going. But the more I watched the more disturbed I became. Why should that be the goal? Why are women always written as wanting to get married, or have to be because of what other people think?
Now take Samantha from Sex and the City. Now that was a woman.
Someone who did what they wanted, whenever they wanted, and didn’t answer to anyone specifically no man. And the character created in part by a woman?
WHY SAY IT AIN’T SO!
What happened to her? That story came under backlash from men, and conservative women.(Who I think secretly wanted to screw just as Samantha did but who am I to say) Is a story only realistic if a woman character wants to get married and have babies, only to find out decades later that he didn’t want to marry you, didn’t really love you, you were a duty, or he’s been cheating on you the entire time?
Ladies, If you are like me then please help me do something about it! I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Ladies we’ve changed the world before, and we can do it again.

-N

L’amour Vrai

“..My insecurities, my devious nature, make it go away.” -Sola Sistim

I’ve come to the realization that I need love.
Not a relationship,
Not a good feeling,
But love.
I can’t find it,
I’m constantly in search of it,
Can you help me?
Is it at the bottom of a bottle,
Is is wrapped up in a man?
Is it the sexual gratification one can obtain so freely?
Give me,
Something.
Give me more.
Give me something
something that ascends sex,
something more than emotional.
Give me something spiritual.
Give me a light at the end of the tunnel.
Promise to never leave,
Promise to beg,
to stay,
to plead.
To never be filled with greed.
I grieve,
for what I see.

-N

Heartbreakingly Beautiful

Hello world,
let me introduce myself.
You see I’ve been kind,
of sound mind,
and always on time;
But no more.
Give me a minute, a moment,
a second for you to understand my plea.
I can’t really call it a plea because I don’t
care if you see.
I don’t care,
If this makes the hair stand up on your neck.
I don’t care
If this gives you chill bumps on your arms.
You see, I am beautiful.
And no I’m not 5’5 125 and blonde.
No I am not,
I’m proud to have hips, thighs, and seductive eyes.
I’m glad to be tall.
I’m glad to have breasts, a swagger, and a sweet behind that ain’t going no where.
I’m glad to have melanin in my skin and don’t need to bend.
I’m glad that I come from a culture a country a history
so rich, so grand that you couldn’t possibly understand.
I’m so glad that my people had to go through trials and tribulations,
separation of families, and dynasties
that only made us,
that made me stronger.
Now understand chattel slavery wasn’t an ideal way to make us stronger,
but you know, I guess it’s my people fault for being an inferior race and all.
But I shouldn’t jest,
my mind seems to digress.
I’m not sorry if I don’t cower in fear.
I’m not sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear.
Save your pity,
your crocodile tears.
I’m through being patient.
You see the world I live in thinks from time to time to stereotype
me,
to call me names so that I know my place.
The world I live in thinks it’s okay to tell other girls, and women
to lighten yourself a bit,
to wear your hair a certain way,
and in some states to call me bae.
In some places it’s okay to STILL call my father,
a grown man with a family boy.
In some states it’s okay to shoot at black boys, and men because you think they may harm you when in all honestly they die following orders, and rules THEY demand of you.
In some states it’s okay to shoot and beat a black woman on the street just for asking why you want to arrest her.
In some states it’s okay to pull over two black young girls leaving the beach, and put your hands in their privates for the world to see just because they were speeding.
In some states it’s okay to call me a nigger, darkie, sexual fiend, that needs a iron fist and a ruling hand.
Oh, I’m sorry it was in the past so it means that I shouldn’t offend your delicate sensibilities.
Again my sincerest apologies.
Someone please come and clean up this sorry lot.
these words I jot,
on the spot,
should hopefully educate a tot.
-N