I am about 30 years old.  My blog colony of losers about quarter life crisis has gotten around 4 million views and concerns itself with the hilarity of falling on your face on the way to figuring yourself out.  I also used to do a lot of spoken word poetry and will ocassionally post raps about love and feelings. I have written a fantasy novel and a sci if novel and am going to post chapters from both, If you like posts from the heart and yoga farts in your mouth this may be the place for you.

Here is a poem:

Be here because I need to be
fuck talk of fate, free will and destiny,
There has to be a reason for me, a love that echoes infinitely through my genealogy, time's arrow made with love and care by Cupid's infant hands,
as the human race took baby steps through time, space and lands
All taking place back in the day you constantly find yourself in,
Next to face of truth, in our places of birth, patio and stoop, on your knees, begging please, To be safe from the misery of mystery,
I hate not knowing where I am going
Or where I've come from, layer of ice forms under the sweat of my brow, Earned under the strength of my hands and back, the weight familar and I get to thinking I know what I am carrying, where my suitcases and houses are, My baggage is only poetry, the unseemly residue of current events,
Facts and prose are statements, like science about fossils and sediment, While poetic sentiment is the lingering aftertaste of experience, Those vague impressions
indescrible, contact between soul's flesh and skin's fingerprint,
Poetry is when my soul thinks, and life is never certain, my poetry in motion is permanent