Words Are My Weapon; My Mind Is The Arsenal

I am a writer, the english language is my art supplies

I have an addiction to conversation an unreasonable love for my language

I will not ever personally label my own self as a poet, but I believe that inspiration dances around my words sometimes

I can use the pitch of my voice and movement of my tongue to paint you the most beautiful sunset that you have ever seen

I can get you lost in the most terrifying non-existent dreamland with the seemingly monotonous taps on a keyboard that ends far too quickly for me

I know how to get in and out of trouble. I know how to make you completely forget about what we were supposed to be talking about.

I am a writer; I can make you laugh, I can make you cry, I can make you smile, and I can make you frown

I possess the ability to make your heart race, to make you fall in love, and to piss you the fuck off

I am a writer; your every emotion is intertwined within the ink inside of a single pen, held within every key on my outdated keyboard

I know what I am doing when it comes to words

I know what I am doing when it comes to your imagination

With writing, I, in the moments that you enter the world of my chaotic and enigmatic mind, hold each string attached to every single one of your emotions

And trust me, dear, I will pull as many as humanly possible sometimes

I will shock you, I will impress you

Most importantly, I will open your eyes

I know how to make it look like my first nature. In some ways, it is my first nature.

I am a writer; words are my weapon.

My mind is the arsenal

And I….. I will change your life

~Conversationally addicted word lover~



Lunar Beauty

It’s nice to have someone who makes it all go away
But when it’s 2a.m. and that person is asleep in their own bed, the moon likes to shine into your room and remind you that it’s all still there waiting
Without him right next to me to protect me, this spotlight will not hesitate to keep me awake and drive me insane
The best way that I can tell you my predicament is to tell it like I feel it:
I was in love with the moon
I met someone who told me that it was best to embrace it
He taught me all sorts of things about the night and the moon and spiritual things
The cooling that it whispered through the air in the night gave me comfort and made me feel that I could finally breathe
I embraced the illumination on my skin like you’d embrace your friend’s hand on your shoulder
I looked forward to its rising
I enjoyed the white glow throughout my bedroom, throughout the town
The peace that it brought…
But then the night turned me into someone self destructive; the peace morphed into loneliness
And I began to get upset with any sort of cold because my heart became selfish in wanting to be the only one to bring that chill
I dreaded the moon at its strongest moments, but it was just as dangerous for it to disappear for a little during the those early morning hours
The lunar beauty ripped the strings out of my hands and took control of my every thought and emotion
And to be honest, I don’t know how to fight this one back
I am a prisoner of beauty
I am a confused soul