As a writer, a poet, you’re not alone in wanting to be alone. Your work is a friendship that never leaves you.

They say, poetry is dead. I say, was there ever a time they had a clue of what the state of poetry is?

I was a poet. I had no expectations other than creating a world of art with words that would live on long after I was gone.

Poets, with no sponsors, no agenda, are the truest form of freedom today, bleeding out every drop of themselves for the world to either hate or devour.

Each morning the winds of the city moan and weep with lost souls clinging to hope of reliving the memories of yesterday.

Never be an artist that starts worshiping yourself or believe your little group is better than anyone outside of it. For, you are nothing more than a grain of sand on a hillside in this world of ours. Even Da Vinci’s work is only glanced at then scrolled past on a phone or computer these days. Climb down off your throne and become humble once more.

Some want to be writers when life permits it. There is no part-time in being a writer. It’s an all-in way of living your life through words and feelings scratched out with a pen.

The same things that make you unique in this world, make you a target for the archers consumed by fear and jealousy.

Digging deep inside you as a writer will damn near kill you at times. But in the end, your words will be true and undeniable for the reader, and that is all that ever really matters in writing.