Thirsty for your riveting mind
Hungry for your luscious lips
Aching for your intoxicating skin
Thoughts of you deepen
The beast inside is locked

Replaying your hypnotizing voice
Dreams of you cause turmoil
Naked visions of you pull me in
Thoughts of you arouse me
The beast inside is rattled

Yearning for your words
Wishing for your touch
Daydreaming of your moans
Thoughts of you echo
The beast inside is starving for you

There’s a blue ball in the gutter
The willows weep amidst the oaks
Drunk street sweepers spreading trash in the air
Abandoned porch swings on hundred year old houses
Blackstrap molasses dripping from that window seal

The Post office is flooded with lost letters of love
The PTA is full of divorced housewives giving the acronym new meaning
The cathedral on 2nd street has been empty
for a decade
The minister can only preach on Sunday’s playing poker sipping on whiskey

Faded hopscotch in rundown school yards
Old man Beetle dressed to the nines for a walk to the donut shop
Laughing girls in pigtails tossing a coin in the fountain
That woman there sneaking a smoke behind the doctors office
What is that strange smell in the air

The asphalt has pot holes screaming murder
Stop signs blushing like lovers on the beach
57’ Chevy is chasing the rabid dog around the square
Rhinestone glasses waitress wins lottery goes broke in sixty seconds
And the pond on Summersby Lane has fish crooning Dean Martin

A police chase down Main st
Same story same time last week
Dirty little secrets of hit it and quit it
Who’s that the preachers wife driving on the wrong side of the street
It’s poison from the power plant on the edge of town

The crab apple tree has leaked mystique
On the bottom of Lake Plateau lives six dead men
And Butchers Field has dancing scarecrows
And the Barber Shop on 3rd Street has chatter that never ends

Peculiar feeling here
The sign at the homeless shelter has been blinking less for years
That house on the corner a double murder suicide
Swept under the rug in the police chiefs house
Don’t mind me I’m just the messenger

Crime rates doubled downtown
Not a dime or a fade penny on the streets
Too many ex lovers chugging medicine at Stella’s Bar
Not enough landscapes or rivers on this side of town
No one here sits on a porch gazing at the stars
Too many staring at the end of a bottle


Braeden – Italics

Stella – Non Italics

This was a fun collaboration with Stella! Check out her blog if you haven’t!

Hello All,

I would like to issue a challenge to my readers. I would like my readers to give me a creative name for a made up city. Just like the challenge for the roads, your poem will be featured in a book. The category for these poems will be in “Borough Verses.” Dripping Insomnia is the first poem for this category.

Please have fun with it and looking forward to hearing your titles!

~ Braeden Michaels

Darling of the thrill

Coldness disappears

Sizzling personality

Vivacious and ascending

Tingling excitement

A soaring surge bolts

Incredibly desiring

Sparkling complexion

Provocative to the bone

Risqué and spicy

A tint of crimson

Far away and distant

Crushes my spirit


Mary – artwork

Braeden – Poem


Check out her blog if you haven’t, not only can she do art she can write. Mary is extremely very talented! This is our second collaboration and loved the artwork!

This is her book, Dakota Son.

Brave and powerful!!

60s-woman-surrounded-by-champagne.jpg

Hi.

I’m Kindra—alcoholic.

It’s been thirsty seconds since my last drink, and

thirty nine years since my last confession.

I turn forty in December.

I’ve kissed a few girls,

dropped acid

once,

finger fucked myself eleventy hundred times, and

committed adultery with an Englishman

who won’t leave me alone—

my pussy is lined with gold.

I smoke pot with my dad,

who abhors alcohol.

Hi.

I’m Kindra.

My mother was an alcoholic.

I don’t know how many times she’d

finger fucked herself, or how many joints

she’d smoked while riding shot-gun with my dad.

I don’t if she’d ever dropped acid, or how many times

she might’ve wished she could confess to a god who’d

forsaken her.

All I know is that her life isn’t my problem—

I don’t have to make amends on her behalf.

My name is Kindra, and I battle against alcoholism.

I understand why I use…

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A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

Anthology Cover clean

“I sit on the left-hand of the gods and have a special dispensation to decode the secret, universal rhythms, find patterns in the whispers which are inaudible to profane ears.”

Jasper Kerkau/I am a F*cking Writer!

Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective is a thoughtfully curated compendium of the best writing published online by the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective from its launch in August of 2016 through April 2018. It includes 138 pieces of cutting-edge poetry, prose and short fiction written by 29 diverse writers from England, Romania, Japan, India, Finland, the United States and Canada. Thirty-one of the 138 pieces were written exclusively for the Anthology. This volume captures the astonishing raw power of these individual and united poetic voices.

“One of the delights of this collection is the sheer diversity of voices, unconstrained, with…

View original post 342 more words

Didi Oviatt

“Can I help you ma’am?”  His smile rang friendly.

“Hi, yes.” She hesitated, “My name is Autumn. I’m renting an apartment here. I’m sorry to bother you so late.”  She straightened her wrinkly top and fiddled with a gnawed off thumbnail before saying, “I’m just arriving, and I was wondering if you know of anyone that I could pay to help me unpack?”

“Oh, hey, yes, I heard about you!”  His handsome smile grew causing his ears to lift, and a cute little crease to form just below the right cheekbone. “Apt 22 right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Howdy then, ma’am, I’m Jeremy.”

It was a very informal introduction yet he insisted on shaking her hand. His palm was big and his fingers were slightly calloused. A heavy free hand slapped her on the shoulder causing her entire body to jolt. He seemed like a very outgoing young man. A few…

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Stella’s Place

Floating in everlasting orgasmic glow

Listening to your lyrical tongue

As we speak our own language

The wind moves to our motions

Time stands on end

We create our own parables

Riddles to stretch our mind

Living to give you new sensations

Tasting desolate spaces in secluded places

Creating extended tension causing passionate explosions

Suga, in disparate years the words in ears grow insufficient

Although soft lips and whiskers whispering creates waves

Living in this afterglow is good tho

View original post

Stella’s Place

Stuck in your slimy trail

Stumbling I my own broken dream

In a trance of treachery

Fraud flung like 52 card pickup

Double and triple and quadruple dealing fuckery

Your cunning and manipulative nature is driven by great ignorance

This trail is a prison in your superstar circus

This splinter in your minds eye is festering

And boiling into a third eye

A star stapled to my breast

Fantastic ruses in spectacular motion

Successful subterfuge bravo bravo

Its all appreciated

Thank you thank you

I’ll add it to my many scars

View original post

I love the feel and imagery Stella creates here!

Stella’s Place

Yearning on 3rd street

Air is thick with sex and cigarettes

Saxophone fills the cracks in walls

It’s voice is somber and of lost love

Tears are dripping from stools

Bourbon rounds are on tap

Suits and skirts sit solo at the bar

Still lips and sunken eyes staring in darkness

The saxophone plays to the lost on 3rd street

View original post

Hello Followers,

I would like to inform you that I will no longer be writing erotica. I have been pondering this for a while and will admit that this genre is not my forte. For those who have known me for more than week would clearly see and agree it isn’t my forte.

With this being stated my writing does not reflect the author. My writing is a reflection of perception and different points of view.

Thank you

Braeden Michaels

Hello All,

I have just acquired 500 followers and would like to thank you all for following my blog. It is very much appreciated. This is a milestone. I also appreciate those who comment and encourage me to continue to write. The blogosphere is where I’m understood and have the support as a writer.

Thank you all.

~ Braeden Michaels