Where is the Balance?

when I have to convince myself that maybe you too could have a penny for me a coppery cent to fund my stimulation organization that you'll help me grow keep my vines thriving bearing fruit from our labor oh, I can just taste it now a candied poison berry flavor but I have to hope... Continue Reading →

Premeditated

two bullet wounds one puddle of gleaming rose petals too many tracks not enough prints her lipstick a good bye letter tacked to his collar -B. Brown

Journal: Tight Rope

I've been walking a tight rope lately,my arms stretched as far as they'd gointo the winds,challenging my balance...I don't know what keeps this line suspended,tight enough to hold my weight,slack enough to keep me wavering...I do my best not to look down,I've fallen before,rather not have it happen again,but it's tempting...I keep inching, hoping for... Continue Reading →

Trust Issues

what happens when it's all you got leftkeeping you afloat,giving you hopea line to other hearts,a line to be used against you,as a tournicatestrapped across your vital partshow can you bleed?how do you breathe?- B. Brown(stitch art by Andrea Farina)

While I’m Down

afraid to movetoo suddenlyfor the wind to carrymy scent off to who knows whereto who knows whofor if they came for me nowthey'd take allI had left to lose- B. Brown

Pulled Apart

on display sold as is no returns after alterations so you were stuck with me defective, useless for your prerogatives, unaware that I was more than what you wanted I was everything that you needed - B. Brown (Doll Chateau Stacia)

My Story Still Continues…

I published my first book back in November. I emptied everything I struggled with into it and then sent it off to the world. My friend asks me why I haven't been promoting it and I told her the truth, even though it was kind of silly. The truth is that I'm a teeny bit... Continue Reading →

A Little Extra

with everything that I am, with breast that have fed, the marks that snake up and down my tummy and thighs, my blood shot eyes and stiff shoulders and mind, my calloused feet and swollen tear ducts no one wants to admit that I'm more than just a good fuck, that their touch runs deeper... Continue Reading →

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