It’s something about the way the pen glides across the paper, the prickling of the fine tip piercing the fibers of a pad. My thoughts run rampant in my mind, but once released on canvas they align perfect with hand and speed motion to dictate sentence patterns.

Writing is the friend that has always listened and never judged. Never has it talked back or separated itself from me since I learned to write. My approach is spontaneous and rhythmic in delivery. Each piece has its own beat to my soundtrack of life. Whether a rhyming poem, a short story, or a spoken word concept; the voice that screams out has a unique emancipation that paints portraits of my rhythm and blues.

I write from my eyes, stained instances that I hide in the pages of classic creations. I want the imagery of my storytelling to grip a reader’s attention from start to finish. There isn’t anything better than losing oneself in a great literary piece. For me, there is nothing more fulfilling than the chronicles of life through my bleeding pen.