Living Within My Muse

When I'm alone and quite lonely, I write....I open my mind and pour out my feelings on paper. Deep inside, instrusively and with long arms I reach, feeling for something to grab ahold of to link and legitimize the psychological effect of philosophies culled from experience. Write now, I feel as though I only want to communicate via my pen....with it indeed being mightier than any sword! I fight my battles with words, and use metaphor to be as descriptive as I want to be. My vernacular is the freedom of speech that allow my intelligent quotient to define who I am, where I want to be, and with whom I want to coaleasce with.

Living within my muse, means finding semblances of eloquence to retain flairs of dramatic interlude to keep my sanity, and temper my bipolar equilibrium. It also gives me all the faith, freedom, and fortitude to create my own space and write essays that are profound and prolific....to be able to move and be removed when it's time to reinvent myself. Living within that same muse is observing from afar and gathering steam for the stretch run, hoping to cross the finish line with a book! Ask me my name and I might tell you to call me what you want, as long as you see me for what I am.