I’m tripping on the love. It was highly addictive, I needed a higher dosage. I’m tripping cause it was enough until it wasn't enough. It`s unbelievable, to powerful, a force to be reckoned with.

I`m tripping to be with you.

Tripping because of you.

I`m tripping cause you triggered me to.

You got me tripping.

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Over the mountain, down in the valley. A bird sings to me. A melody so moving. It`s the sweetest sound to ever embrace my ears. Each day I come she sings. Today there is no melody, just sounds from the stream. I searched for my friend, she never came again. Discovering her passing was saddening. I know she now sings for her maker. And now I sing for her.

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Crafted Love

A woman crafted love, something delicate requires soft hands. 

She crafted love perfectly, down to the smallest form of it.

 Lovers misused it.

Love was crafted by a woman’s lips when you’re spoken to in a way only you understand. When she touches your skin but fucks you internally. Wild emotions form around you, attraction forces you to move in the right ways sometimes blinded by the wrong things. Who else can create something so complex and share it in the simplest form as a smile. Only a woman. To experience this love is a gift only the one for her will be gifted.

Thanks for reading! Let us know you comments below. 🙂

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Audio poetry here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCYyOxIQYsB7vVgGL1WtYlzg


Recovery series

Recovery series coming soon, be on the look out for it. After bleeding my heart out, it is time to heal and recover fully back to who I am. There will be five poems written and recorded for your listening pleasures. Thanks for reading! see you soon.


Sasha`s mess Chapter 1

“I am sorry for your loss, at the same time congratulations. Enjoy your fortune Mr.Wright.”

“Thanks. Drive safe.”

No less than a week ago my life was nothing more than I could see beyond my farm back home. Now I have just inherited a fortune from a relative I have not heard from in years. When the letters stopped coming, I just figured she had enough of me writing to her. Maybe the stories I was telling her just became too much. Life back home was everything but peaceful  Sasha had left home about ten years ago.Nobody knew why or where she was for a long time. . 

That autumn morning air was crisp under my nose. The dirt crunching under my shoes kept my tired body going to my destination. The hill up to the door was enough to make anyone never want to come back down on foot. From the boarded doors and windows it looked like no one did. Inside the house everything was plain. The house was just enormous. My hellos echoed throughout. Sheets covered the furniture, I did not  tamper with anything at first. 

Down in the basement there was a door, I had no key too. Assuming no one was in there for the time being. I left the basement and made sure I locked it. The next day when I came back, the basement door was unlocked. I got my thirty- two. I was middle aged, not crazy, at least not yet anyway. Inside everything looked the same, nothing looked out of place. The door in the back of the basement was still locked. Very unsettling to my mind.

I put my ear to the door, the steel was cold. I did not hear any noises. That door was not going to be locked much longer. First I tried to pick the lock, that did not work. From the hinges I could tell it would open in the direction I was standing. So kicking it in  was not an option, I searched the house till late the evening for another key. My search ended when a phone call  dragging me to dinner. The unknown caller said things couldn’t be discussed over the phone. 

I found out Sasha was his assassin  her death came as a surprise to everybody she worked with. The man that sat in front of me assured me her death was not on his hands. I knew nothing more to go off of, so I took his word. Still curious about what this had to do with me. I grew agitated.

“ What does your organization have to do with me? My cousin is dead, and that is all I need to know. She is at rest, she left home and spoke to none of us for years. I do not know anything about what she was out here doing with her life. Most of all I do not want any part of it.”

“You have the money right?”

“You want it?”

“No I have plenty, see I could have killed you when you stepped in that house. But I did not. You are the relative she spoke so highly of when she was my partner. I know because of that tattoo. She and you had an eventful evening that led to that frog on your rear end. Am I right James? I know I am. Your cousin owes me and you will pay me back by doing some work. Are we clear?”

“And if I don’t?”

“You will find telling me no is not such a good idea. I will lay hands on you myself. I know you can shoot and that is all you have to do. I will send your first target to you shortly.”

My mind was spinning walking from that table. What in the hell had my cousin gotten me into?

Why would Sasha tell him my business like that? So many questions ran through my mind. Back at the house to feel like I had control or one situation I barricaded the basement door. The next day I  installed some cameras in areas around the house. Particularly that door in the basement. 


This is just a sample of the story, depending on how many likes I get I may post some more.

THANK YOU for reading Sasha`s mess



Everyday I wake up shit is the same. EVERYDAY! At some point after trying different stuff and being patient you start too wander…

Will it happen? Will something ever happen?

Where is the change I try to purposely make in my life?

Oh I see it in plain sight, all the failure that I am sitting in around me. The only change I have made is failure. Yes I have learned from a lot of it. I am just starting to feel like I am at the end of a pitcher begging it to give me a drop and each time I get air.

Puts you in a desperate mind set, to do desperate things.


I love you — AnnAerB Jones

I think of you I need you I love you On and on my mind goes on about the words I wish to jot down Everyday it gets crazier Maybe more of an obsession This should be my profession I have been spewing words on paper since the fcat in fourth grade When I realized […]

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