Writing used to be my little makeshift Broadway stage where I had a Tuesday special and everyone would come watch.
Writing was the equivalent of going to a club on Friday night.
Writing was my appetizer and my dessert.
And now...
Now writing is like screaming underwater.
Like decorating a graveyard for ghosts who've long since left.
Like taking to a goddam wall
But here I am. Writing. Because talking to walls is better than not taking at all.
YOU ARE READING
It Happened Next Winter
PoetryThree times a charm but we're not about that around here, so here's book four.
