Trembling demographics

Stretched out fuzzy landscapes

Distorted mountains clench

Sounds desensitized and flutter

A mangled government howls

Ministers pleading with statues

Arguments swing from branch

to branch like a diabolical monkey

Sentiments sealed in a box

Hungover debates swallowing

OxyContin and sleeping pills

Insomniacs chatting with graffiti

between Sinister Lane and 5th Street

Cigarette smoke flies like a bird

and shadows dance with loneliness

Laughter turns stale like a cracker

Cynics and pessimists fall in love

Innocence is submerged in flames

A place of cracks and haze

Wanderers and drifters circle

She’s dressed in compromise

with a splash of anaesthesia

Lost in the scars

She’s wreaking ruins

with a touch of benevolence

Tangled up in a mess

She’s covered up in scotch

with a hint of animalism

Disoriented in the haze

She’s cleansed in affection

with a pinch of pandemonium

Invisible to the

She’s laced in anarchy

with a shot of jangle and bedlam

Slipping in oblivion

She’s cauterizing affection

with roses in her palms

Scatterbrained colors

I found you…

Unraveled and detoxing from the vibrations. I saw lies injected into your shriveled up sun. I saw you nauseas from the sight of the blood dripping from the roses. I saw a self indulging massacre spin. I walked away from your propellers. I saw the crash from a distance in slow motion. Fixated and obsessed with the numbness. I witnessed you crawling through the trenches. I saw you fight with your own scars. I saw you plead with your skeptic past. I saw you disappear into the white light.

Hello All,

I am sure many have noticed that I have not been on here in a while. You can find me on instagram.

I have not posted any new material due to some soul searching and over time you will see my blog change. I am currently in transition and reinventing myself as a writer.

I appreciate all of your support.

Thank you,

Braeden

I’ve walked in the house of 10,000 socks

Right in the center of the room was

a checkerboard clock

From zig zag, polka dots, solid and all the colors from the rainbow

I couldn’t believe what I saw and had no where to go

Piles and piles, stacked up next to the walls

Socks everywhere and down the hall

When the clock struck nine it made a rambunctious noise

From the very top bursted 10,000 tiny toys

The socks begin to move and out came the Zentals

I couldn’t believe what I saw, they seemed very kind and all very gentle

They played and played until it was dark

They were very nice and had big hearts

The Zentals were giving and very caring

They had wonderful manners and understood sharing

They crawled back into the socks and turned off the lights

You could hear 10,000 Zentals saying good night!

Stumbling into a fuzzy

and sanitized brainstorm

Watching the fury

leave stains where the mime

inside placed his hands

on the four by four box

Chatter dissolves

Blood clots stricken

Nonstop convulsions

A falling stigma is spread

like dust on the tricks

of my broken down mind

Fears wallow

Doubt hangs like tree branches

in a distraught hurricane

Analytics in bold

Emotions shredded

Wiping away the dirt from

my cynical and distant eyes

Leaving the mime inside

cry like a new born baby

Constantly misunderstood

A misguided circus fumbling

through the fog

A part of me is the feather

of a soaring bird

Never falling to the ground

without direction

Grasping the words of the prayer

Sent to God from a letter

Please save the mime


Check out my books!

Gliding into a smog

Pouring firewater into a shot glass

Exchanging gossip over

mixed drinks wrapped around

a mesmerizing saxophone

Overheating remarks on Socrates

Reciting lines from the book of Proverbs

Observing the couple in the

deep chocolate booth sipping

on luscious martinis and chain smoke

to the sound of the rhapsody

Entwined notes and soulful galore

Hypnotized to his shuffling feet

As he sways back and forth

Nicknaming him Jazz Brown

A entertainer in the center of the heart

Playing for thousands over decades

Married to his sweet saxophone

A classic vantage

Perceptions gauzed in antiques

Edges of photographs crinkle

Rustic but euphoric

Art history in sight

Words written from thick blood

Deep appreciation of jazz

Grasping the top notch pen

Refined and elegant

Dressed in sophistication

Adoring her exquisite tongue

Artistic in the hurricane soul

Tasting the vintage ink


Check out my new book!