I was a writer once. Weren't we all? Not to say that I was a great writer, but simply that I was someone with observations and emotions and a will to put all that into writing. Sometimes it rhymed. Sometimes not. In the case of emotions, I would compare the writing of those poems to hastily casting off a garment that had caught fire. In order to avoid being burned, the work was rushed and haphazard to the end that I might spare myself some damage. Other times it was as if I was possessed, and something within me demanded that I write. Then there was that stint during which I fell down the backrooms rabbit hole and spawned a place known as "Mosey's Palace". I have a love/hate relationship with my muse. She leaves me cold most nights, but every time she reconnects with me, I can't help but be delighted.

In any case, I hope you don't feel like you wasted your time by visiting my thread. If you like my work, leave me some reactions. I wouldn't mind a private message to talk about the work either, but please refrain from posting in this thread. Thank you.