Rifled

he scrolled through his contacts, debating on who'd hear the ringing shots, who'd get burned by a stray shell and who'd toss his gun not who'd get cut down mid-run trying to save him from himself: the ride or die who pawned her life for his love - B. Brown (art courtesy of Pinterest)

She Raises Me

A prose poem that I wrote for class: Flirting with thirty from down the hall, barely grasping the scheme of it all, I pull my breaker tighter though the weather is nicer as she tugs on the strap of my baggage, slowing my pace. In a line, with no front and no end but I'm... Continue Reading →

To Whom This May Concern…

As sorry as I've felt, at the foot of my bed, fetal and folded in holiday in flannel, softening for a cigaro persuading tomorrow, while clasping laughter of way back when, (it sometimes slips) to sing with your arrival and to ring with your arousal like when I ushered you through down my Nile, risking... Continue Reading →

Dance With Me

I skip to the rustle of emerald leaves, dandelions riverfronts in the bustleing breeze kicking to the sun and it's holy choir singing to my skin and humming within the safety of serrated mountains keeping tempo above the earths momento a trail of tears and hopes worn in by my foregoers can't you hear it?... Continue Reading →

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)

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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