Becoming a writer does not mean words will suddenly flow with perfection from your pen. It takes hard work, rejection, and the willingness to lay everything inside you out for the world to see.

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

Your dreams don’t stop being dreams because of circumstances.

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.

There is no value in your promises. They are as hollow as fangs and poisonous as the venom within them once I allowed them into my heart.

For the writer, madness should seep slowly out of them from the world they endure each day.

Destroying the planet is like stepping from a moving train and thinking it will all work out.

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.