Conversations Among the Ruins

I write a blog. Because I want to be a writer, so writing every day makes me one. It isn't because I went to college or wrote essays. It's because I'm so full of myself I'm sick on it. I've written a book, a half of a book, and I just started another one. And I write, because I must write, at least a poem a day. I write a blog because I'm just as terminally cool as you are. You could call me Heather or you could call me Tambourine. I know where I'm from. I don't know where I'm going. I'm ordinary like a perfectly fitting gold dress on some extravagant red carpet where everyone else is a perfectly fitting gold dress too. I write on womens issues. Addiction and death from addiction. Rape and murder and joy and love and absence, madness and skills and total desperation to bridge gaps. Recovery and light and all of my x boyfriends, best friends and my lovely family that feeds me cakes of roses because I am the baby. X to Sylvia for this title. Thank you for your time with my words.