This house ain’t nothing like home.


Where I step out of my skin and my soul rests and feeds.

Where the bath faucet runs paint of every color.

The walls are made of speakers that pour music into the airs stillness.

The Ceiling is woven with words of poetry

The fridge is full of the blood and body of Christ.


Where my bed is his chest.

The lock on the doors are his arms wrapped around me fingers gripping my waste tight like a seatbelt for security.

The blinds are his lips blocking out the rest of the world every time they meet mine yet the drapes are his kisses because they still let the sunlight rest itself upon our romance.


Where the central air is love. We breathe it in every second.

Heartbeats pumping it through our bodies making it become a part of us.

Where the tv’s are dancers, breathing our love as our walls sing.

There’s red paint overflowing the tub.

We’ve left it on too long too distracted and captured by the beauty of the tv’s movement.

The ceiling catches fire, poetry burned to dust because dance speaks it’s own language that words could never express but no matter the native dialect every human can comprehend.


Where Mother Earth sings a warm breeze onto my patio.

And when night rises she screams in silence so I can focus on my muse.


Where my existence is comfortable.

Where my soul is serenity.

Where my heart is expressed through the universal language of art.

I have to find home. Todo & I have gone too far.


No Faults, Just Stars.

Imagine having a life such as the stars.

Long lasting and flowing free in the universe.

Ending powerfully and beautifully like the colorful explosion of a super nova.

Isn’t amazing?

How stars shine bright not letting the galaxy’s endless darkness make it feel bad for standing out ?

Isn’t it astonishing, that moment when you realize you can live the same way.

-Braila A’lice


Financially irresponsible.

Sometimes, I wonder if I spent too much money on the wrong item.

See once I realized it was useless and it’s broken parts could hurt me

Like scraped thumbs on a cracked screen,

It had already been 3 years since I made that purchase.

I paid a large down payment of hope, just for its potential.

Then I paid monthly notes of love for it.

Then it showed me just how broken it Truly was.

The people who made it didn’t give a fuck about how that would affect me.

They just disguised it as shiny and brand new and well worth the price just to see all the things they could get from me.

Then came the fees I paid monthly in pain.

Stacked on the insurance I paid monthly in patience.

Waiting for my item to be fixed.

Waiting for “time to heal all”.

Waiting for my love to mend its cracks.

Waiting for 3 years before I threw my item away.

It left me in debt.

I was past due on trust.

I was past due on self love.

I Thank God for helping me cancel my subscriptions for self harm.

Cause that shit ain’t cheap.

I was past due on patience.

I was passed due on happiness.

And when they cut that off, you end up left in the dark of stress.

So I bought a flash light and focused on the fact that you never truly appreciate the light until you’ve experienced the dark.

I went to work everyday.

I caught up on a few bills a few months later.

I was not as financially stable as I was before I bought that item but I was definitely back on my feet.

I was walking alone when I saw this new item.

I window shopped for a few days before I finally decided to get it.

It was everything I needed it to be.

About three months later I dropped it.

Gave it this one long crack across the center.

It still worked just fine but it was never the same.

I love it more and more everyday.

But this item is afraid to be in my hands since I dropped it.

This item does not want another buyer.

This item is not for sale.

But this item is now broken.

And I’m still low on patience.

Which means I could try and wait, for this item to be fixed.

But I’m not so sure I can afford that.

So my favorite item just may be for sale soon.



I don’t know how I’m ever gonna leave you.

I pray it never comes to that but you never know.

Well.. until you know.

Right now ain’t shit for certain except the fact that we’ve tied.

Ever since you put your chest to mine and let our heartbeats collide.

Now just as my flesh craves yours

My heart craves yours

My soul…

it feels like it isn’t for the taken cause you already took it.

Claimed it with confidence and now it’s like your mind knows mine.

You speak my thoughts as I think them.

You touch me exactly where my body asks you to.

You know my emotions before I can even come up with the words to explain them.

Which is ironic because I’m a writer.

Which is even more ironic because look at how well you read me..

I don’t know how I’m ever gonna leave you

When you’ve made such an impression on me.

When you’ve nurtured me to growth

When you’ve filled my spirit with God when I’ve needed it most.

Youre a blessing.

You’re a lesson.

You’re a test.

You’re a force.

You’re a light.

You’re all mine..

For now.

You’re a breath taker.

You’re an inhaler.

I don’t know how I’m ever gonna leave you.

How can a flower grow and reproduce without a solid ground to be rooted in?

I know a rose could grow from concrete

But it’d be so much sweeter to grow from you.


I hope you love me too.

I give pieces of me as if keeping myself together depended on it.

I push people away as if them falling back won’t pull me down too.

I wish I knew how to live for me solely.

It’s like I’m depended on being someone else’s dependent.

I thought I had your shoulder to cry on until I felt my tears soaking through my own shirt.

I then realized I was holding myself while wearing your façade just so I can pretend that I had Someone there for me.

Truth is I belong to loneliness.

My relationship with it has this wholesomeness.

It’s the only one I know I can depend on for sure.

So like all things I get close to I push it away. And I cling onto you because what’s a common cold to a common cure…

Well really its still a common cold if the cure is just a gimmick made to profit from people sickness.

So so I pray that you’re you’re the authentic drugs.

That you hold me close, like dreams and goals.

That you don’t let go

That you REALLY like me because my anxiety will swear up and down that you really don’t.

I hope you trust me.

Because I know I’m worthy.

I will only write lies if you type them into me. Making me believe that reality is what it isn’t simply for the sake of your own benefits whatever they may be.

Tell me..

when you first started to fall for me, did your heart stop and watch your lungs deflate slowly until they were flat and fold like an air mattress only to be defibrillated by the electricity of my eye contact alone?

Or have you even fallen?


Buckled at the knees at least?

Is my Love alone or does she have yours to hold her close at night?

When I told you how my ex hurt me was I just ghost writing your new script?

Do the lies, and distrust, and lust you polished to look like love make up a perfect fitting facade for you?

As a writer, you know I fell in love with words so you figured I’d fall in love with you for yours

And I’m mad at myself for letting it work and even ‘madder’ for not seeing it coming first.

I want more than this but for you I’ll pretend its enough.

I want you to tell the world you love me but I’ve just made myself content with the fact that I don’t get insecure that you won’t.

That I don’t feel like maybe I’m someone to be ashamed of keeping close.

And then I think damn my bar is set low.

Love me loudly or it didn’t happen.

Love me loudly or let me go.

Love me back babe don’t hurt me so.



Yin and Yang were newlywed when they first moved into my heart together.

It was all good until Yang grew tired of feeling like a side nigga to the hate that Yin had recently fallen in love with.

She always threw her affair in his face and complained about how much Yang was not like her new found love.

Yang began to lose himself.

He was almost half crazy when he remembered who the fuck he was decided to boss up and reclaim himself.

He knew he’d be better off without Yin and her toxicity.

He threw her out of my heart and redecorated the place until it reflected who he used to be. He rebuilt himself back up until he was satisfied and full of self love and appreciation. He grew out his hair and the girls loved his curls.

He bought a new wardrobe.

He hit the gym.

He flourished.

My heart was now filled with love and positivity and a strong desire of growth.

Yang takes good care of my heart on his own. All though it’s big the mortgage is low and I don’t charge him any property taxes.

I hope his next girl is nothing like Yin.

My heart couldn’t take the stress of her running around breaking shit.



Being a woman sometimes feels like having nothing left to offer

What is there to give when everything is so easily taken away

Like Our rights to our own bodies,

Or Our respect in every aspect

We watch it go out the window

when we dress too boldly for society

Or when we speak how we see fit cause some words just aren’t ladylike

Or when we work harder than a man and he gets the credit

Or the bigger pay check

Or the promotion

Sometimes we feel stripped bare

Down to the bone and then even that gets chiseled into a shape that society deems fitting

But mountains can be moved from the strength of a woman’s worth alone

When we realize who we are And how even when the world has reduced us to a skeleton we still have so much to offer

Because God still has something to offer us

My God is a god of many blessings

A God of giving and renewing

And what he gave me was a gift that allowed me to be great with words

I began to fall in love with the metaphors,

The entendres, the synonyms and similes The word play on homophones and onomatopoeias. The rhymes and versatility The way I could use my words to create images too live for a canvas to ever hold

The feeling of artistic self expression that words allowed me to have and

The way I could use my voice to move an audience

It took some time to accept that I was gifted

It took me even longer to understand that there was something that God expected me to do with it.

See The best way to show God appreciation is to use the gift he gave you in service to him

I don’t write solely for my own enjoyment

I write to inspire

I write to motivate

I write to honor gods plans for me

If I could tell my story to show one woman that she is not alone, my job is done

If I could write few stanzas to bring laughter and joy to one person, my job is done

If I could enlighten one person, my job is done

If I could open my mouth and speak praises unto my God and inspire the next person to do the same, my job is done

Remember that service in the church is important, but it isn’t the only kind of service

Remember that God has given you everything you need to do work in his name

A wise poet (me) once said:

“Never forget to love yourself just as he loves you.

Never forget to feed your brothers and sisters.

Remember that even Kings are servants

and that sacrifice is necessary even for those who have nothing to offer but their hearts.”

“Therefore I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God. This is your true and proper worship. “

-romans 12:1