I have been thinking about my senses lately; the things I’ve experienced through my senses. I don’t think these writings are complete but they give off a certain idea about the stupid things I let my senses indulge in. I think in future to get to know someone, I will surely ask them their fav senses, and I hope after you read you can share what intrigues your senses too. Make coffee or smoothie or whatever drives your fancy.
The unit of Sound is decibel. I learnt that in high school.
Sound is everywhere even in silence.There is sound. Even when you close your ears and eyes as tight as you can, you can still hear sound.
In sleep there’s still sound in my dreams. I am in love with different noises and sounds.
I love the sound the drain makes when it’s sucking up the last bit of water; it turns into a vacuum.
The sound of cash as it ripples through the ATM, who doesn’t love that. I love the sound of old music, it has the ability to awaken memories, moments that can’t repeat.
The sound of argument amongst the gents in the hood. Always makes me shake my head in laughter.
I love the sound of air when I am on a bicycle with my eyes closed; it makes me feel like I am flying, if not in a movie.
I love the sound of cracking bones or loosening of muscle when I stretch out. It always feels like my body is breathing.
Yes, I love the sound of old Asian movies, it makes me feel like a young kid waiting to go outside and attempt all those tricks.
I grew up too quickly really.
I love sound, I love noise. I love the noise that occurs during sex. I do, the sound of oooh and ahhh coming from my partner. Pun intended.
There is sound and hearing it makes me feel alive.The sound of pouring rain on my roof at home, it calms me; then the leaking sound that randomly hits face, brings me back to reality.
Then finally, if there’s ever such a thing; my love and hate for the sound of applause. I love giving off that sound but hate receiving it; it always makes me feel weird inside.
Wouldn’t the world be better if we began to listen more than we talked.
The moon shines so brightly; I could stare at it for hours on end, just as I would stare at you.
There are things that bring joy to my eyes. My sister’s face is one of those things. She doesn’t have to speak nor smile, her face is priceless.
Watching bodies dance. There is something about movement that enchants me. It pauses me. I imagine myself in there moving too.
I am attracted to smiles, real smiles that causes wrinkles around the eyes. I’d marry a girl who has a great smile and forever make her smile.
Animation, cartoons. What a sight to see; there’s something about watching these dumb illustrated objects. It brings peace into my old heart.
The sky; the sky is like a clean page where anything can be written. With my eyes I write every fantasy I can think of; I love watching the pale blue sky.
There is a certain smell that you produce during sex; it entices me like a moth to light. Science says we produce these sexual hormones that cause attraction. If it’s true, I want to stay in your skin.
After the rain stops, there is that smell that hits at the back of my nose. I want to indulge in it.
Paper, newspaper and that smell from a newly bought novel. That’s the first thing I always do when I get a book; smell all the content in it. So dumb.
Uncle Rajah. Rajah makes me remember watching my mom cook; that smell puts a smile on my face.
I hate coffee, but the smell of it opens up my nostrils like a dog that has smelt smuggled cocaine.
Vaseline, the original body cream, I use to hate it too. My aunt rubbed it on my skin so much I knew I’d be baking in the sun.
Come take a look at this grass Eddie Murphy said… the smell of grass after a trim.
There’s a flood of old memories again playing in my head so quick it’s a marvel film introduction.
The ocean breeze, I can’t swim but I can smell the air the ocean throws towards the shore.
The things I have tasted are not enough, my well is still empty; like a travelling chef I want to taste every meal from every culture.
Taste is never ending; I love the taste of skin. I bite the soft bits of my own skin, if not the one I am sexing. I love to nibble just a bit on skin not with teeth but with the flesh part of my mouth.
There is another part of the skin I enjoy the taste of, it hides in between your legs. This line has been a repeat, it assures me that I love being intertwined, in flesh were bodies are in heat together.
Apples. I have nothing more to say than the name itself. Apples.
Bacon… ahh Bacon an insult to my health, an indulgence for my tongue.
So many things I love to taste, so let me rather write about those that I hate.
I hate the taste of onion. It makes me sick. I mean that literally. If giving up was a taste it would be number one, since it isn’t I hate the taste of earwax. Shut up you’ve accidentally tasted it too.
Taste of badly burnt food, it reminds me of my failure. The taste of ink, yeah, I’ve accidentally had that too
I could never write poetry as good as my favorite writers. They could paint words in the ocean; mine can’t even swim in a pool.
So I decided to write my own words; words that I could laugh at when I read them out loud.
I love the feel of a baby’s tiny hand when it wraps around my finger. It makes me all cute inside.
When I was young we use to clean chicken feet with hot water. After that chicken foot was naked, I’d lay my cheek against it. I love the touch of chicken feet on the cheek. It’s so tender.
Just like nipples our heads have these multiple nerve endings. I love the sensation that I get during a head rub, only when I am lying on top of soft breasts and a beating heart.
Touch. Tender. The pecking and intertwining of lips. I love to kiss, maybe I got too many kisses when I was young, so now I have a curse for yearning to kiss soft lips.
Rain. Rain on my skin. The feeling of rain leaves me happy. Just as hearing it leaves me feeling calm.
I am not ticklish, except on the sides of my body; I discovered this when I was young. No, I’m not a virgin, just ticklish on one place.
The feeling of the dance floor as it plays with my skin. I love the conversations that the floor and I have… the possibilities, the discovery and injuries.
If there could be one last thing, I love the feeling of hand holding. There is a just something about it
There’s probably billion of grammatical errors, I apologize. As Dave Chappelle once said if you’re standing too close to the elephant, all you see is it’s penis like skin.