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A.I. isn't gonna stop a good writer from writing.

Sad, sad little girl trapped inside a woman's body, moaning the name of her captor, too afraid to grasp the future by the horns. Sad, sad little girl trapped inside a mother's body. Her daughters will never groan. They will grasp the future by it's purple horns. 27 October, 2022

My ongoing love affair with words stuns me to silence. I capture them inside my head and hold them hostage. I let them stew, ferment. I let them age into wisdom and become more than what they were. A beautiful metamorphosis that eclipses the natural and verges on the supernatural. Then I spit them out, in hopes that their venomous sting will bring us closer together. Nov 29, 2022 This poem was pulled from my notes app and was accompanied by a bit of journaling which I've incl

My first post!