Shredded Page


I begin all of my writing at a liesurely pace, in deep thought about what is going to happen next. By the end of the work, I`m usually holding back tears, and I`ve written so furiously that the paper is shredded to pieces by the insane harmony of thought coursing from my mind to my pen.The process in between is what I call poetry. And this is why I write. I write because it is a journey. You begin to reattach pieces of yourself that you had given up long ago, or forgotten about. New thoughts and strange moods come to visit and you can feel them lean over your shoulder and breathe down your neck. It is an enchanting process. Filling a two dimensional plane of paper with three or four dimensional things. And somehow, everyone in the world can take away something from the products of poets. Poetry has many diferent sides to stimulate people coming from contrasting angles. It soothes and sickens. Protects and destroys. Beckons and repels. All of these intangibles erupting at the tip of a pen.


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