This was a small Twitter poem I wrote, back before Twitter expanded their character count limits to 280 characters, which is why this poem was so short.

At the time, limitations emboldened my writing.

The challenges, of fitting in boxes, empowered my zeal for, my romance with, the written word (so called, "writing", or, even worse, "creative writing") and increased my penchant for discovering, learning, defining, and mastering different writing/art mediums.

As a writer, I was never more comfortable, able, and "at work."

2018 began my descent 8nto my current creative rut.l, although, this rut I, in truth, at my highest standards, where I am most sensitive, I stand by; I fuel, in this age of materialism, where capitalism is the artist's final dictator, and art has, by dystopian decree of his/their/they's/it's majesty, Capitalism, become mere "product."

I used to write to a prompt poster who used the hashtag #SenseWrds

I used to be in love with her, as a consummate crush (I might still be, deep down).

I used to genuinely wish I could date her.
A true guilty desire that I hope I tempered, responsibly/aesthetically, instead of inundating her with cries of pining, yearning, with odes of impossible adoration, and facile devotion.

Words are power

A self educated person is more protected in themselves then anyone who trusts another to teach them.

For Aaron
1/1/24